Seleya
by MP - Mary Contrary
Summary: Infinite universes, infinite timelines, infinite T'Pol's. This one you've never met. She will never surrender and she will never abandon her own. And she will never leave Seleya.
1. Prelude

_Ohai._

_MaryContrary here._

_..._

_Okay, so, yeah. I've unfinished stories on here I haven't touched in a long time. I know._

_And, yeah, not gonna be working on those right now. _

_So I'm a bad person. _

_But I had this idea in my head I couldn't shake lose until I did something with it. _

_Take Firefly. Nix the Alliance, replace with the mirror universe Earth Empire. Or Human Empire. Whatever it's called._

_In fact, just nix that whole Firefly universe and replace with the evil, mirror Star Trek: Enterprise universe. _

_Sorta. Kinda. _

_Replace Malcolm Reynolds with T'Pol. Throw a few other Star Trek: Enterprise characters in there._

_Especially Malcolm. Just to confuse folks that are still thinking "Firefly"._

_Shake well, rinse thoroughly, stir briskly, bring to a rolling boil...__fold, staple and mutilate...crack my knuckles and get to typing. _

_Just kinda see where it goes._

_Maybe I'll even finish it._

_Hmm._

_So..._

* * *

><p><strong>Vulcan<strong>

**The outskirts of Mt. Seleya**

T'pol continued forward through the broken terrain, staggering her steps more now out of habit than necessity. One shouldn't take for granted that any particular satellite overhead at the moment wasn't one of the motion-tracking variety. Thermal, life-signs, all the various passive sensors designed to detect enemies on the surface…all of those her recon suit could fool easily enough. Simple movement, though. Leave it to the Humans to design a surveillance system to track _movement _from _orbit_. It galled her to admit it would never have occurred to her own people to come up with such a thing.

It was such a contradiction, so like the Humans themselves. Technologically sophisticated, highly advanced…and yet so blatantly, unapologetically _primitive _at the same time. There was no way to fool something like that without being invisible. And while there were stealth suits that had since been developed, at least effective enough to fool orbital sensors of that sort, they were practically useless against every other form of detection. Which left her staggering across the Vulcan landscape as she was.

Three steps…pause for two breaths…eight steps…pause for two…three steps…half pause… six steps…

She was beginning to lose count, somewhere around the one hundred and eighteenth unit of pi. So she began again. It hardly mattered, really. If there were any motion tracking satellites that had her unit in view at the moment, none of them had spotted them yet.

She began again, then. One step…pause for four breaths…one step…pause for five…nine steps…

If she were Human she would have to admit some humor at the irony. Defeating an automated orbital surveillance system by measuring one's steps to the progression of pi. But then again, she thought, if she were Human she wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

Of course if she were, she'd probably be drunk, participating in an orgy or some other unimaginable and thoroughly disgusting behavior. She honestly couldn't guess quite what the Human invaders up there were engaged in at the moment aboard their orbiting ships. She assumed they'd been provoked to extremes of behavior by the carnage and destruction they'd wrought upon the planet though. Humans lacked all discipline when provoked to emotion, such as their seemingly impeding victory must surely have. Whatever it was, she could be sure it was barbaric, abominable and something she wanted no part of.

If only Vulcan were in the position to take advantage of that somehow. As it was, they were entirely on the defensive.

A crunching step in the sand to her left warned her than one of her team had wandered perhaps a bit too close to her. It was best to keep a distance, she knew. Individuals were easy for satellites to overlook. Groups grew geometrically easier to detect as their numbers grew. Enough that even a group of four, such as they were, might as well light flares and run in circles as walk anywhere near one another. Once you have been detected, there was no shaking the tracking software. Swarms of fin-stabilized steel bars would be descending from orbit to pulverize you before you knew it. How many Vulcans had died before discovering by chance the simple trick of dispersing your numbers when in the open…well, T'Pol did not want to contemplate.

A warning glance in the direction was sufficient to send that one staggering off again at a slight angle, increasing the distance between them again. Still close enough to maintain unit cohesion, but only just so.

But that one wasn't one of her own, exactly. That was the Human, Malcolm. Her prisoner, if only technically, and he was usually as well disciplined as any Vulcan could be expected to be. In fact if she were forced to admit it, he was often more so. He'd always been something of an enigma to her in that way really. At any particular moment displaying a number of stereotypical Human behaviors…and yet still somehow reliably diligent in maintaining self-discipline, so that she found her own subordinates often rallied to his standard. Usually entirely despite themselves.

He at least was one glaring exception to the Human rule. This one was hardly engaged in…whatever she imagined the Humans above must be engaged in. He trudged along with the rest of her unit and suffered all the more for it. As a planet, Vulcan was wise enough to remain even more inhospitable to Humans than she was to her own children. And she was fairly harsh with them to begin with. With Humans she was…almost disturbingly vicious. It had long since begun to take its toll on him.

In light of that…she found she had to amend her musing. Were she Human she'd probably be right where she was after all. Trudging and staggering through the sand. Only then as a traitor to her own people, just as Malcolm was. That at least seemed the most likely scenario to her. Better than being up there with…_them_. Malcolm at least had chosen the right side in this conflict, even it were liable to be the losing side. The route she'd have surely chosen as well, she thought. Traitor though he may be, she had to admit that he was at least the first semi-rational Human she'd ever met.

She suppressed a small smile when it occurred to her then…if she _had _to chose…well, she'd chose to be Romulan. Every bit as disagreeable as Humans in many ways but at least possessed of _some _rationality. And, more to the point, they alone among the scores of advanced star-faring civilizations for many, many light years around had managed to keep the Human Empire at bay.

So far, at least. The humans weren't invading _their _home planet anyway, and likely wouldn't be any time soon. She'd take all the shortcomings of the Romulan race in exchange for that alone.

* * *

><p>As the bunker drew close T'Pol was immediately alarmed that there was no lookout posted. Naturally, they not be in clear evidence but she knew what to look for. And there was no one on post, she was certain.<p>

Coming to a halt, she sent a vague hand signal over her shoulder. Malcolm was there almost quickly enough to startle her. Probably having stepped in front of S'Ten to get there.

"Trouble, commander?" Malcolm huffed.

He was far too close and well into her personal space. Something she learned to diligently ignore by then, though it surely offended her comrades still. His panting breath from the thin Vulcan atmosphere and…overall _odor_…were more difficult to overlook. But she was becoming accustomed to the constant offense this one Human managed to generate, as she was sure he was completely unaware of it. No offense where none is taken, after all.

T'Pol squinted ahead, still watching the area carefully. "I am not sure. There should be a lookout here. One, at the least." She frowned. "I see nothing."

Malcolm was gone before she could give the order. Staggering ahead, keeping to the shorter cliffs to minimize his visibility to anyone at the bunker while allowing him to keep it in view himself.

He was expendable, after all, and he knew it. Better he takes the risk than one of the only two remaining Vulcan members of her own squad. And, she knew, he was quite aware that if they succeeded and lived to return to the remaining forces at Mt. Seleya, he would be returned more properly to "prisoner or war" status. And all that suggested.

It had been obvious for some time that he didn't mind risking his life helping his Vulcan captors achieve their goals. T'Pol supposed some random manner of violent death must be preferable to him than imprisonment. Even imprisonment at the hands of Vulcans, who typically treated their captives well.

But he was Human, after all. His motives did not require rationality, so she didn't expect them to make sense to her.

T'Pol and her subordinates waited patiently. Waited on the Human. Hunkered down in the sand…though none of it would really matter if the bunker had been compromised. If it had fallen, then the occupants had fallen. And their gear would have been confiscated or destroyed. Specifically the tight beam microwave communicator these Vulcans had salvaged from the abandoned spaceport she'd only just come from.

Without that their mission was lost. Everything hinged on it. It was what they'd trudged all this way to reclaim, suffering so much loss in the process.

Malcolm was at the bunker now, she saw. He'd reached the half-hidden entrance without encountering anything untoward. Which was fortunate, as a Human skulking about would not have been met with any other greeting than a quiet death, had a lookout been on post.

A quick gesture from him then. No lookout, as she already knew. But there were apparently Vulcans inside the bunker after all. She staggered forward again immediately, her subordinates at a proper distance behind and to either side.

* * *

><p>Inside the dimly lit bunker T'Pol suppressed some measure of despair. And distaste. The Vulcan soldiers here were…<em>loitering<em>. She could think of no other apt description for what she saw. No lookout on post outside, no one manning the comm…the jury-rigged microwave comm she'd come to confiscate…she couldn't even tell which of them was in command here. That one should have already presented themselves. To question her at least, if not offer a proper greeting and acknowledgement of her superior rank.

T'Pol allowed herself a cold glare around the room. It seemed appropriate.

"Which of you is in charge here?" She demanded.

After an unacceptable delay, one of the Vulcans in the rear finally roused himself enough to step forward.

"It would seem that I am, as all the officers here have been killed." He said, looking her over. "I assume you are not here to relieve us, as there are only three of you."

Not counting the Human prisoner, of course. This man's languid manner provoked her to some irritation, despite his apparent ability to count to three successfully. In light of the disorderly state of affairs, which he'd just claimed responsibility for, she would not have granted him even that.

"Sergeant." She said, a cursory glance at his rank insignia revealing this to her, since he hadn't bothered identifying himself in any way.

"I've no time to address the obvious deterioration of discipline here, as pressing a matter as that may be." She said, stiffly. "We have come to commandeer the microwave communicator you salvaged from the spaceport."

The sergeant seemed momentarily confused at that, though his glance at the nearby comm unit indicated he'd understood that much.

"The private, T'vel, whom you left for dead was not, in fact, dead." T'Pol explained. "At least not at that time. She was able to inform us that you'd salvaged the unit from the wreckage of the spaceport and give us your approximate location before she died."

"I…see." The sergeant replied. "However…unfortunately…I cannot relinquish the unit. It represents our last remaining possibility of establishing communications…"

"Excuse me for interrupting, Sergeant." T'Pol said. "But this is inconsequential and I do not have the luxury of discussing it. We require the communicator and I outrank you. You will turn it over to Private Sorel now." She gestured to her subordinate at her side.

"I'm regret that I am unable…"

"Corporal S'Ten." T'Pol said sharply.

"Yes, commander." Her other subordinate, standing at her side now as well. With the battered pulse rifle he'd taken from the Human he'd killed only yesterday, now ready at his shoulder.

"It is my belief that the men here have abandoned their duties and deserted their post." T'Pol announced. "Would you agree with that assessment?"

"Indeed, commander."

"Very well. Private Sorel will confiscate the microwave communicator…as well as spare power cells for our weapons and one week's worth of food rations from the stores here…if anyone interferes, take the opportunity to execute them for desertion. And everyone else here as well. Understood?"

"Understood, commander."

Her continued glare at the inadequate leader of this rabble was probably unnecessary. He was already thoroughly cowed. Or…perhaps simply didn't care enough to object any further.

Regardless, she continued to glare at him anyway. It seemed appropriate.

* * *

><p>"Message away. I estimate sixteen minutes minimum before it arrives, thirty-five minutes minimum before we receive a response, Commander", Sorel said.<p>

T'Pol nodded acknowledgement. She could only hope that Chairman V'Las had been correct. If the tight beam microwave burst were able to pierce the jamming going on in the atmosphere above, the incoming Vulcan Fleet would at least receive some manner of intelligence on the current situation…before stumbling blindly into it.

She turned to Malcolm. "The delay will be substantial, as expected. We will wait for acknowledgment and any appended communication before returning to Mt. Seleya. I realize there are only two of you, but you and S'Ten must do your best to secure the perimeter in the mean time."

Malcolm only nodded before turning way. S'Ten had already anticipated her orders and disappeared into the surrounding dunes moments ago.

After a moment's hesitation, watching the Human stumble tiredly away…

"Malcolm." She called after him.

He stopped and turned her way again. She found the look on his face indiscernible, having not nearly enough experience reading Human expressions. But she assumed that he was already contemplating what she was about to suggest.

"If you were to take this opportunity to attempt escape, I would be forced to send S'Ten after you." She warned.

Malcolm smiled slightly. "Of course, commander."

T'Pol nodded and return her attention to Sorel…as she continued to speak.

"I doubt he would be successful in retrieving you." She said. "And I suspect he would not devote considerable effort in doing so. Especially considering our time constraints would not allow for an appropriately determined attempt."

Had she more experience with Humans, rather than having spent her entire life up to that point among Vulcans almost exclusively, she'd have recognized the chuckle this elicited from the man. As it was she assumed he'd simply choked at her suggestion. That at least she'd witnessed Humans do from time to time, under stressful interrogation. Either way, it was an emotional reaction and she responded as she would have regardless. She politely ignored it.

Instead she waited patiently for the Vulcan Fleet to respond, leaving Malcolm to slip away into the dunes unobserved.

* * *

><p>"Commander, the Vulcan Fleet confirms receipt of message. They…" Sorel hesitated. "We have been ordered to cease communications."<p>

T'Pol's eyebrow twitched at that but more was clearly forthcoming, so she exercised patience. Sorel continued listening intently through his earpiece as the message continued, having been received nearly seven minutes earlier than expected. It would seem the Vulcan Fleet had arrived sooner than command had expected, if only somewhere out on the borders of the system.

"The…_D'Vahn_ and _D'Shor_ have been destroyed." He said. "The Human fleet currently holds all of Vulcan orbit…"

T'Pol turned her attention skyward, to the area immediately above Mt. Seleya. Where the last of the homeworld detachment had made their stand in orbit…and had apparently lost that battle.

They had come all this way, suffered so much, primarily to inform the Vulcan Fleet of the current situation. To enable them to prepare to coordinate with the remaining orbital defenders when they arrived in system. Apprise them of the situation so they could act quickly and decisively, while there was still time…

But time had apparently run out. There was no one left up there holding any part of Vulcan orbit anymore. The Humans had effectively taken the planet already.

"Commander…Vulcan Fleet has…offered their complete surrender…" Sorel said, astonished.

T'Pol blinked in shock, staring at Sorel. Had she misunderstood? The Vulcan Fleet surrendering…at the figurative gates of their own home world? Such a thing would never have occurred to her. It was, quite literally, unthinkable.

Her thoughts raced. With orbit already lost, firmly in the grasp of the Human fleet…perhaps they've simply accepted logic here. That there is nothing they can reasonably do to liberate Vulcan now. Better to spare the fleet for the moment and occupy the Human leaders with talks of surrender. It would fall to them then to resist from the surface. Guerilla warfare was not something they were specifically trained for…but they could adapt…

"They've have asked…Commander, they have asked only that Mt. Seleya be spared…"

T'Pol blanched.

_No. No, they couldn't possibly be so foolish…_

"When?" She demanded. "When did they do this?"

"I…assume only moments ago." Sorel said. " Mt. Seleya is…it is still…"

_It is still standing…_

T'Pol's reason…slipped.

She began to suspect this was no mere ruse at all. The commanders of the Vulcan Fleet were exercising extremely poor judgment…perhaps they truly intended to surrender…

How could the they be so stupid? Had they not come directly from a crushing defeat at Axanar? Did they not know how the Humans fought…how they _thought…_?

How predictably they would _react_…

"No…" She muttered, unaware that she had spoken aloud. The full horror of what she suspected already tipping the scales in her mind. She was stumbling forward, unaware of herself, climbing the short rise that blocked the sight of Mt. Seleya from her…beginning to panic…

"Commander…!" Sorel cried.

She had to see…it wouldn't be real if she didn't _see_…

It wouldn't be _real_…

Hands grabbed at her from behind, but not before she'd nearly scaled the small bluff. Malcolm had returned, though she was completely unaware of him. Had she any awareness to spare she would have assumed it was Sorel, but he had been too overcome to do more than call out to her.

One Human, however timely his arrival, lacked the physical strength to pull a desperate Vulcan away from anything they might be after. But he tried anyway, and perhaps would have succeeded as he was rather determined himself. But unseen and unheard, at least to them, the single missile had already broken through the atmosphere and struck the mountain before Malcolm could begin finally to pull her away. He had almost acted quickly enough, almost been desperate enough…

Almost. If he'd had only a second more, perhaps she would have been spared.

The missile penetrated, detonated, _ripped _the ancient, sacred majesty of Mt. Seleya cleanly down the middle, before obscuring the mountain completely in dust and debris….engulfing it in a great and terrible flash…unimaginably, unnaturally bright…enough to sear T'Pol's retina's instantly.

The last sight she would ever see with her own eyes.


	2. Chapter 1

**Sigma Ceti system  
><strong>**_Sbah-Tar'Hana  
><em>Vulcan Clan-Operated Cargo Freighter**

**_(6 years later)_**

Captain V'Mer strode on to the bridge, pausing only to assess the situation screen before taking the command chair. She cocked her head towards the communication officer without taking her eyes away.

"Have you made contact with the ship captain, Somek?" She asked.

"Indeed." Said Somek, still working the console. "However, I am unable to establish visual communications."

Captain V'Mer raised an eyebrow at that, even tearing her attention away from the screen long enough to demand an answer with it.

Solmek explained. "The captain cites failure on the part of her engineering staff to maintain proper routine maintenance, rendering the visual communications system non-functional."

Ah. A Vulcan captain, then. Very likely with a non-Vulcan crew. Who, of course, lacked the discipline to keep the simplest bridge components operating efficiently. Logically, it followed that this would most likely be the cause of the ship's current predicament as well.

"T'Lel, your assessment?" She asked, turning to the sensor operator.

"I am unable to detect any weapon systems." He said. "Further, my readings suggest the captain's claims of critical plasma leakage from the port nacelle are correct. However, I am unable to determine the specific origin of the leak."

"I suspect failure to maintain proper routine maintenance to be the cause of that as well." V'Mer said.

The captain considered the drifting vessel on her screen for a moment longer. A small freighter, probably a modified older model survey vessel. Really little more than a collection of spare parts now, all told.

The situation was suspect, of course, but Imperial Law was clear. The vessel was adrift and broadcasting distress on open channels. Whether off the established trade routes or not, she had little choice.

"Bring us alongside." She ordered. "Instruct the captain to meet us at her starboard airlock. Have M'von standby to board and begin repairs. This seems primarily an engineering matter, but we will assess any possible threat first. You will accompany me to the airlock, T'Lel."

"Permission to retrieve a phase weapon from the armory locker, captain?"

"Of course." V'Mer said, already exiting the bridge.

* * *

><p>V'Mer remained calm but vigilant, taking care to do nothing that could be perceived as threatening. At her feet, T'Lel had already been rendered unconscious by a surprisingly quick and efficient physical assault...from the same Human who now held her at gunpoint.<p>

Beyond him, and the phase pistol he held to her temple, the Vulcan captain of the supposedly 'disabled' ship stepped forward from the shadows. V'Mer was somewhat surprised at her manner of dress, expecting the traditional black and leather motif common among the pirate sort. Instead, she wore simple cloth pants and shirt, plain work gloves and boots. Her own weapon still at her side, untouched. Nothing at all unusual…except for the old, well worn, Vulcan military jacket the woman wore.

V'Mer recognized the jacket, of course. As any Vulcan her age likely would. An officer's jacket, issued only to the now defunct Vulcan Guard. The _pre-empire _Vulcan Guard. Clearly this captain had served on Vulcan, some time during to the Human invasion, and wore the jacket quite obviously to communicate that fact. A strong deterrent to resistance, considering the threat that it implied.

Or, perhaps, she had simply killed someone who had served in the Guard and taken the jacket as a trophy. It worked either way.

V'Mer determined it would be wise to speak first. She could guess what was coming.

"Before you make your demands, I must advise you." She said. "This vessel is clan owned and operated, not merely a commercial vessel. The crew can be expected to defend the ship tenaciously, whatever orders I might be compelled to give to the contrary."

"I have no interest in seizing your ship, Captain." The Vulcan woman said. "I am here for the container hidden in the smuggling cache of your port cargo bay."

V'Mer raised an eyebrow, the only movement she was willing to make with the phase pistol still held to her head.

"I am afraid that…"

"I advise you not to test the patience of my Human crewman." The woman warned.

V'Mer hesitated for a moment. Human _were _notoriously unpredictable, after all. And while the one holding the pistol to her head might seem calm and self-controlled at the moment…

"Very well. I am familiar with the container you speak of." V'Mer said.

The woman nodded. "And so violence will not be necessary. You are Vulcan, and so I trust you embrace logic. Your situation is clear."

V'Mer was puzzled. Was she expected to have come to some conclusion that would lead to her handing the container over without any fuss…?

"Captain." The woman said. "You have been boarded and are currently under threat by those who are not only aware of your travel route but also of your smuggled cargo and its exact location aboard your ship. What does this suggest to you?"

Oh. Of course.

"This should suggest to you that powerful forces of the nefarious sort have gone to great lengths to gather intelligence on this container, as well as the ship and crew that transport it. Which itself illustrates significant determination devoted to obtaining it."

"I understand." V'Mer said. "It would be logical to reexamine whether it continues to be profitable smuggling an object that has attracted this measure of interest. Especially with someone readily at hand, offering to remove it…without harming my ship or crew."

"Indeed." The woman said, nodding aside to the Human. "I see no profit in delaying our departure long enough to cause you any further difficulty."

The phase pistol was removed from her temple and holstered, the Human already standing easy.

"Unless…" The woman continued. "You would prefer otherwise? For the sake of your client. My crewmen is quite proficient at inflicting non-lethal wounds."

"That will not be necessary." V'Mer replied, straightened her shirt. "I have worked with him before. He is a professional and will understand the situation."

She spared a glance at the crewmen at her feet to assure herself he continued to be well. All things considered.

"If your…Human…will accompany me?" She asked.

"Certainly." The woman agreed. "I advise you to move quickly, however. The crew of a clan vessel can be expected to be as protective of their captain as they are their ship. It would best to conclude this matter before provoking their concern."

V'Mer nodded, turning to make her way to the cargo bay, Malcolm already at her heels.

T'Pol waited at the airlock, with no witnesses but the unconscious sensor operator at her feet.

And so allowed herself a small sneer of disgust.


	3. Chapter 2

**_Seleya_**  
><strong>Private Freighter Vessel <strong>

_Seleya_ broke lock quickly, angling away gracefully enough to provoke an eyebrow's worth of appreciation from the pilot of the Vulcan freighter. And only because he wasn't yet aware they'd been robbed.

Its course already laid in, she leapt to warp almost immediately.

On the bridge, Travis tapped the console, enabling the autopilot, and swung his chair around to greet his captain.

"Everything go alright?" He asked.

"Indeed." T'Pol said, stepping briskly to the command console, to double check everything Travis had just double checked himself.

It didn't bother him, of course. She was Vulcan. It wasn't as if she could help herself.

"So…we got it?" He asked.

"We got it." Malcolm said, stepping onto the bridge himself. He held the small silver cylinder up for inspection, smiling slightly.

"And I must say." He continued. "I do prefer robbing Vulcans over anyone else. Very logical sort, always know when to give up."

Travis grinned. So this one had gone off without a hitch. It was about time they'd had an easy job.

"What do you mean by that, Malcolm?" T'Pol asked.

She was still bent over the command console, Travis noticed, still seemingly focused on examining the display.

His smile disappeared.

_Oh, crap._

Malcolm was immediately chagrined. "Oh. I…I'm sorry, captain. I didn't mean…" He said, uncomfortably.

T'Pol turned to face them then. "No." She said. "What you intended to convey is unclear. The captain was wise to turn the container over without risking further violence...is that what you were suggesting?"

Malcolm fidgeted a bit, not wanting to meet her eyes. But Travis could see he was frowning, already chaffing at the dressing down T'Pol was intent on giving him.

Definitely one of those moments he wished they'd keep this sort of thing off the bridge, Travis thought. This was _his _little area. They should go do this stuff somewhere else.

It was kinda scary.

"Captain…"

"Yes. Perhaps you are correct." T'Pol said. "It _was_ wise, after all. They have avoided further violence, to themselves and to their ship. The loss of their highest paying cargo was a small price, whether it renders future contracts with their client unlikely or not. In fact, I think it would be wise to follow their example."

Malcolm was glaring back at T'Pol now, no longer ashamed of a simple thoughtless remark. Hardly fighting back or anything, Travis noted, but just standing there, taking it like a good little soldier.

T'Pol pondered. "Perhaps I should contact the Empire. Inform them I have a war criminal serving aboard my ship. A traitor who abandoned his duties and actively aided the enemy in a time of war. Better to avoid any possible conflict with them, after all. That may result in violence of some sort…"

"As you wish, captain." Malcolm glared.

"You would agree with that decision?" T'Pol asked, raising an eyebrow in feigned surprise. "And what of myself, then? Would you agree that I should turn myself in to the authorities? Confess to the many crimes that I have committed in order to maintain the operation of this vessel? To provide yourself and the crew with your pay? Certainly should they become aware of these things otherwise, they might act violently to apprehend all of us."

"That's your decision, captain." Malcolm said. "Any time you want, you make the call. I said I'd follow you and I have. Faithfully, this whole bloody time."

"I had not considered these options as viable before." T'Pol said, thoughtfully. "Thank you for your input, Mr. Reed. Until now I had assumed violence to be preferable to the abdication of freedom. Clearly there is some point of logic here that I have failed to discern all this time. I will consider these matters more carefully before I act further, however."

"Brilliant, captain." Malcolm said, stiffly.

"You are dismissed." She said.

He was gone before she finished speaking.

T'Pol stared after him. And Travis waited.

"You know…" he said at last. T'Pol turned her attention to him then.

"You're kind of a bitch sometimes, captain." He said.

T'Pol ignored him, turning to the intercom instead.

"Tolaris." She said, through the comm.

After a moment…"_Yes, captain?"_

"We have secured the cargo and are en route to the rendezvous point." She said. "Make whatever preparations you require."

"_Are we expecting trouble, captain?"_

"Of course."

T'Pol released the comm button and turned to leave…but Travis wasn't quite done yet.

"I know dealing with Vulcans gets your undies in a bunch but Malcolm didn't deserve that."

She stopped at the bulkhead, pausing to gather her resolve with a short, entirely _internal _sigh, before turning back to take on her pilot as well. Travis required more management than Malcolm sometimes. He at least was a soldier at heart. Travis, however, was thoroughly..._civilian_.

That coupled with the inherent drawback in employing Human crewmen to begin with. They tended to be highly skilled and far more resourceful than most other races…and as such were perfectly suited for this line of work…but they required such a great deal of management.

"Mr. Mayweather, my undies are in no way…'bunched'." She said, facing him. "And I find discussing the intricacies of my command style with you to be nearly as inappropriate as discussing my underwear."

"Uh huh." Travis nodded, folding his arms defensively. "So that was your command style. Not just you mad at those Vulcans and taking it out on Malcolm. Because he, I don't know…_relaxed _for a moment."

T'Pol's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Mayweather…"

Travis immediately tossed up in hands in surrender.

"Okay. Okay. Command style." He said, turning back to his console, suddenly finding something other than the current topic of discussion to busy himself with.

T'Pol nodded and turned away again, making it fully through the bulkhead this time.

"I hope Malcolm understands that, though. Instead of just thinking you were being a bitch."

* * *

><p>In the hallway beyond, out of sight of anyone who might see, T'Pol rubbed her forehead lightly as she walked. Her eyes always acted up when she was under stress. The sort of telling sign one doesn't let slip in front of one's subordinates.<p>

There were _other _pilots in the universe, she thought. Travis was certainly highly skilled and thoroughly competent, but she could find another just as good if she looked long enough.

Well, probably. Maybe _nearly _as good.

Okay, no. He was more or less indispensable. But he wouldn't be quite so difficult to manage if he just didn't _know _that...

"Headache, Captain?"

She'd have known who was speaking simply from the comfortably smug tone, even had she not recognized the voice. T'Pol stopped rubbing her forehead and opened her eyes, betraying no further weakness. Certainly not before _this _man.

"No." She said simply…before noticing what he wasn't wearing.

"Tolaris. You are naked."

Tolaris raised an eyebrow and looked down to examine himself.

"Yes. So?"

"We have had this discussion before…"

Tolaris rolled his eyes. "What do we care if the Humans are offended? They will be offended at something momentarily, does it matter what in particular?"

"Dress yourself appropriately before leaving your quarters, Tolaris." T'Pol. "That is an order. One I have issued previously."

Tolaris squinted at her. "I'm not one of your little soldiers…"

"You are in my employ." T'Pol said. "If you wish to continue in that state, you will obey orders. Certainly in regards to your state of dress."

"Fine." Tolaris huffed. "And I was in the _shower _when you called. I just stepped out…"

He leaned, in a thoroughly exaggerated manner, across the corridor to the arms locker, snatching something from within.

"…to retrieve my weapon." He said, holding the gaudily embroidering leather holster up for inspection. "As ordered. _Captain_."

"Then remove yourself from the corridor until you are properly…"

"Bloody hell!"

Malcolm. Coming up the steps beyond…to an almost stumbling stop at the sight before him.

Her eyes were beginning to hurt. She certainly wasn't going to rub them in front of either of these men, but it was starting to tempt her to irritability.

"Captain, is it really too much to ask that we be spared the sight of saggy, Vulcan arses loitering in the…"

"That is enough." She said, to Malcolm. "The matter is being addressed."

"Tolaris…" She continued, turning to him…but he had already dismissed them both completely and retreated to his quarters.

She turned to Malcolm, then.

"Malcolm…"

"Just stowing the merchandise." He said, tossing a thumb behind him. "Wasn't expecting to find Tolaris all starkers in the corridor. Although, I suppose I _should_ by now."

The two regarded each other for a moment then.

Awkwardly.

"Malcolm. I expect you understand…"

"No need for all that, Captain." Malcolm said. "A superior officer…or ship's captain, as the case may be…barking your head off now and again…well, part of the job and all that."

T'Pol nodded. "Very well. I estimate we will rendezvous with the _Hannibal _in one hour, seventeen minutes."

"We're ready, captain." Malcolm said. "Well…if Tolaris can manage to scrounge up something to cover his naughty bits with, anyway."

She allowed an eyebrow twitch at that, though of course she didn't find it especially humorous. She was Vulcan, after all.

Still, it seemed appropriate.

…

The disconcerting habit of interrupting her when she spoke, which everyone seemed to have developed recently…well, that would certainly have to be addressed, of course.


	4. Chapter 3

**_Hannibal  
><em>****Private Transport Vessel**

T'Pol entered the small cargo bay ahead of Malcolm and Tolaris.

A professional doesn't send her hired killers into the room first, when the client is there waiting to do business. That would be rude.

Except on the _first _meeting, of course. That's perfectly logical.

"T'Pol, my girl." Mr. Smith grinned toothily at her, leaning casually against a packing crate just beyond the airlock. "And look at that, not a single phaser burn on you anywhere. You're getting _good_ at this."

T'Pol regarded the man and the goons behind him dispassionately while her own two men glided into position beside her. A _subtly _intimidating glide, in a _subtly _intimidating manner.

Style over substance. That is what men like Mr. Smith admired. And so, of course, she provided it.

She raised her hand casually to one shoulder, receiving the small cylinder that Malcolm slid gracefully into her hand.

Just so. Precisely as she'd seen Mr. Smith do many times before with his own men. She'd practiced it with Malcolm for over an hour in order to master the move, quite certain that it was the little things like that that had earned her something of a 'top billing' in Mr. Smith's list of…private contractors.

Mr. Smith clapped his hands, rubbing them together, before accepting the cylinder from T'Pol.

"There we are, now." He said, admiring the device. "And it will be well worth the investment, let me tell you."

And, of course, the subtle pass over the shoulder to the man waiting behind him, while steadily maintaining eye contact with T'Pol. Passing it on in a near mirror image of the maneuver she had just performed. This time with a glint of humor in his eyes, intended to communicate to her that he knew quite well what she'd been about with all that.

"So. Business. Let's wrap it up." He said. He turned slightly, receiving from yet another hired goon a small plastic box. Obviously containing her payment for the job.

And while all the dancing and maneuvering seemed to have been accomplished, what with Mr. Smith simply turning and grabbing the box from his man…T'Pol wasn't expecting her pay to come in a box.

She was expecting a data disc.

"Mr. Smith." She said. "I presume that is a gift of some sort and not the payment we agreed upon."

Mr. Smith smiled. "Well, T'Pol, my dear…there's been a sleight _change _in our agreement."

"Then it is no longer our agreement. Nor an agreement of any sort."

"Now, now." Mr. Smith consoled her. "Let's not…"

…and T'Pol could see from his quick shift of focus from _her_, to roughly waist height where Tolaris was standing _behind _her, that Tolaris had undoubtedly placed his hand to his phase pistol.

"…get ourselves in a _snit_." Mr. Smith finished, with a warning glare at Tolaris.

T'Pol cast a vague look to her right, forced to _hope _Tolaris acknowledged that as the casual communication it was intended to be.

_Cease disrupting the meeting with subtle threats, thank you._

Mr. Smith smiled back at her again. "Yes, my girl, there has a been a change. And yes, you're not going to like it. Not _at first_."

"But…" He said, raising a finger and cocking his head slightly.

Another of those chaotic and complex Human gestures she had no hope of decoding. Forcing her to wait for enlightenment while he continued.

"…it's not _quite _so bad. I promise." He said, still grinning.

T'Pol waited patiently. More dancing and maneuvering was to be had, it would seem. One could only exercise patience in the face of such things.

"Now, when you asked for, in lieu of standard payment no less, those blueprints and technical manuals you asked for…well, naturally I was _curious_." Mr. Smith explained. "That probably doesn't surprise you. What _will _probably surprise you is that I managed to figure out just which Imperial Courier ship you had in mind."

Malcolm sighed slightly behind her. Audible only to her, of course, but he'd obviously guessed what was coming, just as she had.

"That's quite a lot of money that little ship will be carrying." Mr. Smith mused.

He 'tssked' then, presumably to indicate appreciation of some sort.

"Yes, quite a lot. More than enough to go around. Oh, certainly. _More _than enough. And, T'Pol, I must say…I was a little hurt at first, suspecting you intended to cut me out of a job as lucrative as that."

Mr. Smith gestured wildly, suddenly.

She did not appreciate it when he did that.

"Hey, I'm only Human. A man in _my _position…well, you get a little _paranoid _sometimes. You can't _help _yourself. But I came to my senses. I realized there was no way, just _no way_, you'd cut me out of something like that."

"Isn't that right?" He asked. With just precisely the right amount of threat behind it.

T'Pol blinked slowly. "Of course not, Mr. Smith."

Mr. Smith snapped his fingers loudly. "Precisely. Of course not. I was a _fool _for ever _thinking _such a thing. I'm tempted to ask what I could possibly do to make it up to you, my most faithful, and beautiful, may I be so bold to add, dearest T'Pol."

"_But_…you needn't worry about all that." Mr. Smith continued quickly. "I've just the thing. I decided…what else?…I'll have my men do that job _for you_. Save you…well, all the mess and fuss. You know. _And_…cut _you _in on the job. Certainly for far larger a percentage that you'd have allowed yourself, I'm quite certain."

"I know how generous you are, T'Pol." Mr. Smith warned. "So don't argue. I don't want to hear you complain that I've shorted myself with the 20% I'm passing your way. Yes, granted, my men will be doing all the messy bits, of course…but I won't pass up the opportunity to show my appreciation for you. For all the fine work you've done for me in the past? Nope, I won't hear of it."

Mr. Smith 'chucked' her on the shoulder then.

T'Pol decided he was mocking her, though she wasn't sure in precisely what manner.

"Hell, you're the one that found this job for me after all. That's worth maybe 10% right there."

T'Pol turned her gaze to the box in his hand.

"Oh, yes. Of course." Mr. Smith said. "You guessed, didn't you? Yes, of course you did. I went and figured up roughly what that 20% would work out to be. Plus a _little_ extra, of course. Couldn't help myself."

He thrust the box toward her. Far too energetically for her tastes, especially with the _intentionally_ feral grin driving the gesture.

"There you are, my girl." He grinned. Somewhat viciously. "You certainly earned it."

T'Pol considered the box for a moment. Or seemed to. Rather, she was busy determining which direction to duck and dodge. Her left would be the most logical choice, as Tolaris was rather more skilled than Malcolm with phase pistols. Malcolm's training leaned far more toward the phase rifle and demolitions in general.

So, yes, obviously her left.

When she hit the deck she was not at all surprised that Tolaris fired first. He got off two shots before she landed, in fact. He really was astonishingly fast.

And though she challenged herself by attempting to fire on Mr. Smith _before_ Malcolm did...she didn't mind at all that he beat her to it. It was logical to have only the most reliable and highly skilled men available on her crew. By all accounts, she'd done well in that regard.


	5. Chapter 4

_**Hannibal**_  
><strong>Private Transport Vessel <strong>

T'Pol stepped over the body of the fourth man, the one she hadn't noticed hiding behind the support beam until Tolaris had shot him in the shoulder. His arm had skittered across the floor and nearly struck her in the face.

Tolaris, once again, had elected to adjust the settings of his weapon to induce maximum carnage. His justifications regarding 'intimidation factor' had not persuaded her before. More often than not, his opponents were not alive long enough to be intimidated.

She would be having yet another long talk with him concerning his unnecessary sadism on the job. It simply wasn't professional nor, more importantly, efficient.

Malcolm's targets had all died quickly and cleanly. The standard 'kill' setting did not inflict open, cauterized wounds. That was much more preferable, for many reasons. She would encourage Tolaris once again to follow Malcolm's example. And remind him that he was at risk of becoming an impediment.

The light choking sound to her left caused her to pause in her search for the cylinder.

"If that is Mr. Smith, it would preferable if he did not die yet." She said.

Tolaris replied. "That may prove difficult. I shot him in the throat."

T'Pol noticed him standing languidly over one of the bodies, apparently polishing his phase pistol.

"That was unnecessary, Tolaris. Malcolm disabled him before he drew his weapon."

"Yes, but it was more pleasing than the ridiculous look on his face at that moment. And I prefer the one he wears now."

"Render first aid immediately." T'Pol ordered.

With a frown and a sigh, Tolaris stepped casually over to where Mr. Smith lay and crouched beside him. T'Pol found herself entirely lacking in confidence that Tolaris would approach the assignment with any diligence.

She regretting sending Malcolm to secure the bridge.

By the time she found the cylinder, having fallen and slid into the far corner, the shuffling and verbal protests from the corridor indicated Malcolm had returned.

"Get your damned hands_ off _me!"

A Human female. Perhaps it had been better that she'd sent Malcolm after all. Tolaris could not be trusted with women. His off-duty behavior in that regard had resulted in warrants for his arrest on three worlds so far, cutting out a regrettable number of sources and contacts. Not to mention the half dozen worlds already eager to lay hands on him when she'd found him.

He was indeed a significant source of trouble, which his phenomenal skill with a phase pistol only barely outweighed.

T'Pol reclaimed the cylinder and stood to examine Malcolm's prisoner.

_Prisoners_, in fact, as it would seem the male Human in his left hand was too terrified to make loud demands.

"Pilot and comm officer." Malcolm reported. "No one else up there."

T'Pol nodded. "We have a pilot."

Malcolm let go of the man in his left hand, letting him collapse to the floor.

T'Pol glanced quickly at Mr. Smith, who'd since given up choking. And moving. Tolaris had likewise given up and returned to polishing his weapon.

So, no information available there. Which left these two.

"Who are you?" T'Pol asked the woman Malcolm was busily wrestling with.

"None of your damned _oh my god...!"_

She'd noticed the half dozen bodies scattered around the room.

Looking at Malcolm, Malcolm shrugged back at her. It was a small ship. There really wasn't anywhere else to do this.

"What is your name?" T'Pol asked.

"Sato. Hoshi Sato." The woman murmured, still staring at the horror around her.

"Please attempt to focus, Hoshi."

Hoshi blinked back at her, swallowing. Trying at least to focus on her rather than the dead.

"You are the comm officer, is that correct?" T'Pol asked.

"Yes. I'm…yes."

"And you realize that serving on this vessel has made you an accessory to the crimes committed from this base of operations?"

"What?" Hoshi stuttered. "I…I guess. I mean, yes. Yes, I know that."

"Then acting as a witness to the identity of those responsible for your employer's death will gain you little mercy from the interrogators of the Human Empire. That is why it is not necessary to kill you or the pilot. I can be confident that you will both avoid law enforcement diligently if I leave you alive."

Hoshi stared at her.

"So? So what?"

"So calm yourself, Hoshi. I have no reason to harm you."

"Oh. Okay…good."

"Unless you fail to answer questions to my satisfaction."

* * *

><p>"Look I don't know what that thing is. Some kind of key, I think."<p>

"A key to what?" Malcolm pressed.

"I don't know! I already told you!" Hoshi exclaimed. "Look, I interpret sometimes. Mr. Smith doesn't trust translators. The electronic kind, I mean. But I don't know anything about this. I wasn't called in on this one."

"You know that it is a key." T'Pol said, holding up the small cylinder before her. "And it is. An electronic key. It is logical then to assume you know what it intended to unlock."

"Well, you can assume what you like. I don't know."

T'Pol regarded the young woman for a while. Just long enough to cause her discomfort.

"I am afraid that is insufficient, Ms. Sato." She said. "Malcolm, summon Tolaris from the bridge, to continue this interrogation himself. I'm sure there are adequate tools available to him in the engineering room. We will return to the ship."

Hoshi's eyes widened. "Wait, what? I don't know anything!"

"I find that difficult to believe." T'Pol said. "You are aware that it is a key but claim not to have been 'called in' on dealings concerning it. That is highly suspect."

"I just know what I overheard, that's all! I wasn't a part of this! I don't know anything!"

"If you overheard it being spoken of as a key, then it is likely you overheard what it is intended to unlock. Or at the very least, something else concerning it that would shed light on that."

Hoshi's eyes flittered back and forth as she desperately tried to recall something, _anything_, that might help her. To avoid discovering just how those 'tools' they'd referred to would be put to use.

T'Pol did not wait long. "Excuse me, Ms. Sato. I have important matters to attend to."

"Wait! I…wait, maybe it unlocks the box? Or activates it or something."

"What box?" Malcolm asked.

"Well, that's what this is all about, right?"

"The box that Mr. Smith offered us?" T'Pol said.

"He gave it to you?" Hoshi asked, surprised. "I thought that's why you killed him. Why'd you kill everyone then?"

"Wait." Malcolm said, holding up one hand firmly. "What box are you talking about exactly?"

"Wha…that one. Right there." Hoshi said, pointed to her left. "The stasis chamber."


	6. Chapter 5

_**Hannibal**_  
><strong>Private Transport Vessel<strong>

"Well." Tolaris said. "At least it's not some genetic experiment, leaping out of stasis to devour us all. That is largely what I expected."

The blond human lying within the now-open chamber certainly wasn't about to leap anywhere, having not even begun to wake. The Starfleet jumpsuit was intriguing, of course, but T'Pol could find nothing else before her that might shed some light on why, exactly, the man was lying there in the first place.

"I was rather hoping for treasure." Malcolm said. "Mr. Smith certainly made it out to be something of that sort."

"Kidnapping?" T'Pol wondered. "Perhaps some form of extortion? I find I'm at a loss to guess Mr. Smith's motives for holding a Human captive. Especially a Starfleet officer of some sort."

T'Pol glanced at the two Humans seated against the wall nearby. Both were obviously overcome at the events of the day, and neither seemed likely to have any insights to offer.

"Kidnapping Starfleet officers isn't something an intelligent person typically sets out to do." Malcolm said. "Mr. Smith never struck me as being this stupid. Stark raving mad at times, perhaps, but hardly a moron."

"Which again would indicate there must have been significant profit in this for him." T'Pol said. "To risk the wrath of Starfleet in this manner, the potential profit would have to be considerable."

Malcolm bent over to examine the man more carefully.

"Well…he's Operations. So most likely engineering or security." He said, indicating the red stripe around the upper torso, then tapping the row of pips at the breast. "Commander. So probably…what ship is this on the patch? The _Gladius_? Probably either the Chief Engineer or Security Officer."

T'Pol hiked an eyebrow at that. "Hardly someone who would not be missed."

"Yes." Malcolm agreed, grimly. "Quite."

"You do not recognize him?" Tolaris asked.

Malcolm frowned. "I'm sorry, Tolaris, I realize every Human in the galaxy is expected to know every other one but, no, I'm afraid I don't."

"I recommend we leave him." Tolaris said. "Kill the other two Humans. And this one as well. I see no profit to be gained from investigating this further."

"The blueprints and manuals are not in the ship database." T'Pol said. "Logically, Mr. Smith delivered them to other contractors, who are likely already engaged with hijacking the courier ship. We have no other profitable avenues available here."

"What is the profit in this?" Tolaris challenged. "To be hunted by Starfleet?"

T'Pol ignored him. "The _Gladius_. Have you heard of this ship, Malcolm?"

Malcolm shrugged. "Can't say that I have. That's an NX class on the patch, so…a cruiser. Exploratory, most likely."

T'Pol considered the matter for only a moment longer.

"We will take him." She said. "I expect he, at least, will know what Mr. Smith intended. At worst, we will have rescued him from whatever fate he had in store. There may be some leverage with Starfleet that we can utilize here."

"Hardly." Tolaris sneered. "They will likely take offense to having their man 'rescued' by Vulcans. Hunt us all the harder for the affront."

"Well, we can't just leave him here." Malcolm argued.

"And I am so very surprised to hear you say that, Malcolm." Tolaris jeered. "Yes, you wouldn't think of leaving your _comrade _here, would you?"

Malcolm straightened up immediately, already provoked.

"Enough." T'Pol said. "We take him. Tolaris, there is likely a medical kit on the bridge. Retrieve it. Malcolm, check the man for intelligence."

It took a moment for the two to finish eyeing one another, reasserting themselves, but Tolaris left and Malcolm went to work digging through the man's pockets soon enough.

T'Pol turned to the two Humans who still awaited their fate nearby.

"Have either of you any information to offer?" She asked. "Concerning this man and what Mr. Smith intended for him?"

The two spared one another a glance but Hoshi clearly had nothing more.

The pilot, however, fidgeted.

"What?" T'Pol demanded.

The man shrugged. "Just some guy, for all I know. I think he knew something but I don't think there was any kind of ransom involved. Nothing like that."

"And what do you base this upon?"

"I…I mean, I never heard anyone say anything about ransom or dealing with anyone. They just talked about what they were going to get from this guy."

"What did they expect to get from him?"

"I don't know. Something valuable, I guess. Mr. Smith was excited about it anyway. But I don't know what."

T'Pol waited. Staring.

"I'm just the pilot!" The man said. "They don't tell me anything. What do I need to know? Plot a course, go to warp, park the ship and stay out of the way. That's my whole job."

T'Pol nodded, turning back to the stasis chamber.

"Look, you're going to let us go, right?" The man demanded. "We're not a part of any of this."

"Most likely." T'Pol said, already focused on Malcolm's progress with examining the man.

"Listen, I've got a family!" The man exclaimed. "I'm just a pilot. I just fly the ship!"

"Please remain quiet." T'Pol said. "Malcolm?"

"Well, I was tempted to say security." Malcolm said. "I would expect an engineer to have bits of this and that in their pockets. This man is clean…except…"

He produced a small square of paper, holding it up for her.

She took it. A photograph. On it, the same blond Starfleet officer standing in an open field of some sort, one armed draped casually across the shoulders of another Human, female. From the color of the sky and the clipped green grass at his feet, certainly some location on Earth.

A family resemblance between these two, perhaps, but T'Pol couldn't be certain.

"The building behind him." Malcolm said. "That's the Engineering department of Starfleet Headquarters."

"An engineer then." T'Pol concluded.

"_Chief _engineer, most likely." Malcolm said.

T'Pol considered.

"What, then, is the profit of holding captive the Chief Engineer of the I.S.S. _Gladius_?" She asked.

"Other than ensuring a top bill on the empire's 'most wanted'?" Malcolm said. "Intelligence, would be my guess. Something technical, obviously. _Possibly_ weapon systems or something similar...but if we're talking about _profit_…enough to get Mr. Smith excited…then I would say warp technology."

"Look, I just want out of here!" The pilot behind them, growing hysterical.

T'Pol continued to ignore him.

"I don't want to hurt anybody, but I'm not a part of this!"

_Hurt…? _

"Uh…captain…" Malcolm said.

T'Pol turned.

He had a phase pistol.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at Malcolm, disappointed.

"I checked him." Malcolm insisted. "Don't ask me where he got that."

T'Pol noted the two bodies lying nearby. "Tolaris failed to retrieve the fallen weapons from these men." She pointed out.

Malcolm slumped a bit. "Bollocks." He said. "I'm going to kill that bloody idiot."

"Okay! Just shut up!" The pilot yelled. Growing all the more hysterical now. "I just want out of here. You people…you get off the ship…and I'll…I'll just fly away. You can take that guy, I don't care!"

"Remain calm…" T'Pol said.

"_I'll remain calm when you're off my ship!_" He screamed, pointing the pistol at her.

He is hysterical, T'Pol thought. That sentence was practically nonsensical.

"I'm pretty sure the charge on that pistol is depleted." Malcolm said. "It's blinking, anyway."

"Shut up!"

"Pilot." She said, soothingly. "It is not necessary to…"

"I said_ shut up!_"

A short pause.

Malcolm murmured. "I can probably take him before…"

"Dammit! I'm shooting the next person that says _anything_! I'm not kidding! I'll do it!"

Tolaris stepped out from the corridor to the bridge. Behind the man.

"Now…I want…I want you off the ship. Right now!" The man yelled, switching the pistol back and forth nervously between T'Pol and Malcolm. "_Right now! Get off my_…"

His head exploded.

"Bloody hell…" Malcolm grunted.

Tolaris holstered his weapon gracefully. Before the man's body had even begun to fall.

The sight of the headless Human twitching and then, finally, slumping dead to the floor, was extremely pleasurable to Tolaris. Enough that he failed to realize T'Pol intentions as she approached.

He was unconscious before he realized he'd even been struck.


	7. Chapter 6

**_Seleya  
><em>Private Freighter Vessel**

Malcolm was grunting with effort by the time he'd carried Tolaris all the way to his quarters. Once there he simply dropped him from his shoulder, apparently not concerned with causing him further injury as a result.

Tolaris 'thumped', quite loudly, to the floor.

"You Vulcans…" Malcolm huffed. "…are much heavier than you look."

"We enjoy a higher than average muscular density, relative to other species." T'Pol said.

"I can't say I enjoy lugging it about." Malcolm said. Still gasping. "Shall I tie him up?"

"That would be wise."

Malcolm went to work, not at all timid about ripping Tolaris' bed sheets to bits.

"I noticed you left the airlock open." He said.

"Yes."

"Do we _need _a comm officer, captain?"

"It would be logical to destroy the _Hannibal _when we depart." T'Pol said. "And she claimed to have served as an interpreter. That would suggest she is well versed in a variety of languages, if she were of any use to Mr. Smith in that capacity."

"We could just buy a translator…" He suggested, already tying several of the linen strips together.

"We cannot spare the expense." T'Pol said. "And, anticipating your next suggestion, procuring one by theft would present an unacceptable risk/reward ratio. They are an extremely rare and valuable item, outside of Starfleet."

Malcolm sighed. "Well, let's hope she's as smart as she looks…speaking of which." He nodded behind her.

T'Pol had heard her approach, of course, and had intended to force her to seek their attention. She turned to face Hoshi nevertheless.

"I don't know how to fly that ship." Hoshi said, stiffly. She looked forlorn, a little lost perhaps…but she held her chin up, at least attempting to appear steady.

T'Pol nodded. "We intend to overload the _Hannibal's _warp drive and thereby destroy any evidence of what has occurred here. We are currently three light years from the nearest commonly traveled route, so it is unlikely that the debris will ever be found or identified."

Hoshi stared.

"What?"

T'Pol reflected again that Humans required significant management and direction.

"She means…" Malcolm said, as he tied Tolaris' wrists to his ankles. "No one will be looking for you. So you can come with us and get off at the next stop."

"Or." T'Pol said. "As an alternative, there are two empty quarters on the deck below that you may chose from. The standard offer being an equal share of all profits, living expenses deferred."

Hoshi blinked. "Are you offering me a job?"

"I can only assume you've nothing further to fall back on, considering your employment with Mr. Smith…"

"Okay."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. The Human had made the logical choice. And quickly at that.

"What skills do you offer, Hoshi?"

"I'm fluent in twenty different languages and sub-dialects." She said. "I can speak…maybe forty well enough to communicate without difficulty. I manned Mr. Smith's communications console for the last two years, in addition to serving as his interpreter. And…I worked on the universal translator project at Starfleet for a while, so I have some electronic engineering skills…"

"You're Starfleet?" Malcolm asked, surprised.

"Uh…no." Hoshi said. "They kicked me out of the Academy before I could graduate."

"Why were you dismissed from the Academy?" T'Pol asked.

Hoshi squinted. "Um…is that relevant? I mean, I thought you people were pirates or something."

"Or something, thank you." Malcolm frowned. "And no, it's not relevant. Our captain here is Vulcan, as you may have noticed. Insufferably curious."

T'Pol decided not to respond to that. And, really, it likely wasn't relevant.

But she would be revisiting that point with Hoshi later.

The ship shook slightly.

"_Captain." _Travis, over the intercom.

T'Pol guessed immediately. They'd failed to secure the man in the stasis chamber.

She was tempted to rub her eyes. That headache was returning. But Malcolm would undoubtedly make a fuss.

"The phase cannon remains disassembled, Malcolm." She said, already force Hoshi politely out of the way. "See to it immediately.

* * *

><p>"Travis?" She asked, striding onto the bridge.<p>

"Off port." He said, his fingers already dancing across his console. "No problem keeping up with him. Which means he's busy plotting a course for warp instead of flying the ship."

"Malcolm will be approximately two minutes reassembling the phase cannon." She said.

"He'll be gone before that."

She turned, finding Hoshi peering curiously through the hatch.

"Hoshi." She said. "The communications console is there. Hail the _Hannibal _and contact the man piloting it."

Hoshi didn't hesitate very long before taking her seat next to Travis, but she was clearly confused.

"I thought that other one _killed _Murphy." She frowned.

"Logically, it is the Starfleet officer piloting the ship." T'Pol said.

"Hi." Travis smiled brightly, extending his hand. "Mayweather. Pilot, navigator and public relations."

"Oh. Uh, hi." Hoshi said, juggling the earpiece, console and handshake awkwardly.

"Travis, focus on the pursuit." T'Pol admonished.

"I've got him." Travis said, confidently. "He's just going in a straight line, captain."

T'Pol tapped the intercom nearby.

"Malcolm, the phase cannon is required immediately."

"_Working on it, captain. You have to break this thing down before it doesn't show on sensors, you know."_

"Attend to your task with all haste." She said, closing the comm.

"Yeah, well tell me about it!" Hoshi was saying. "Murphy got his head exploded right next to me, you jerk!"

"Hoshi, do you have him?" She asked.

"Yes! And he's an _ass!_"She said, tapping the channel open.

"…_your captain to go piss up a rope! Your ship isn't armed, so you can kiss my ass until I get this jump plotted!'_

T'Pol addressed the air around her.

"This is the Starfleet officer that we released from the stasis chamber?"

"_That's me. Who the hell are you?"_

"I am the captain of the _Seleya_." T'Pol said. "If you would delay your departure, I believe it would be beneficial to both of us to discuss…"

"_A goddamn Vulcan. Well that just figures."_

"…to discuss what has transpired up to this point." T'Pol continued.

"_I get thrown into stasis and wake up to a ship full of dead people. Bits and pieces of dead people. So you can discuss my ass when it goes to warp."_

T'Pol's eyebrow twitched. This Human seemed to have a preoccupation with his own hindquarters. Had it been injured in some manner?

"I am certain you wish nothing more than to return to your duties with Starfleet. However, there…"

"_Yeah, right. My duties with Starfleet. I'll be getting right back to that."_

T'Pol hesitated. Was that sarcasm? She wasn't quite sure…

"I presume you prefer to avoid contact with them instead?" She asked, taking the risk.

"_Lady, I don't know you. How about I keep my business to myself? In fact, why am I even talking to you? Course plotted. I'm out of here."_

T'Pol spoke quickly, taking her last shot at distracting him until Malcolm could get that phase cannon online again.

"Commander, my name is T'Pol and the _Seleya _is merely a small…"

"_T'Pol?"_

"Yes. T'Pol. My ship is…"

"_You're Vulcan and your name is T'Pol."_

"That is correct."

A long pause.

Which was quite acceptable. Except that she had no idea what had prompted it.

"Commander, is there some…?"

"_Well, that's just really weird."_

"I confess, I don't understand."

"_You don't happen to know a Captain Archer, do you?"_

Archer? She was familiar with one. It was doubtful this Human knew him, however.

"I have worked with an Alexander Archer in the past. But he passed away three years ago and served…"

"_Jonathan Archer. Starfleet."_

"No. I am not familiar with that name."

"_Oh, okay. Good."_

T'Pol waited. She wasn't sure how to proceed…

Malcolm rushed past her then, moving quickly to take his seat and begin locking on to the _Hannibal_.

"Commander…" T'Pol said, trying to formulate some response to keep him occupied.

"_Don't worry about it. For a minute there I thought I slipped into some kind of alternate universe or something."_

"I am not familiar with the subject of alternate universes, either." She said.

A completely ridiculous thing to say, of course. But she was beginning to suspect the man was disoriented, possibly as a side effect of his having only recently woken from stasis.

The conversation so far had made little sense.

And now he was laughing.

"_Be thankful for that, Vulcan. Trust me. You don't wanna know…aw, crap. We'll that's what I get for running my mouth. Nice trick with the phase cannon, lady. Now, let's see if you can hit me."_

T'Pol signaled to Malcolm.

The Human had not been so distracted after all.


	8. Chapter 7

**Terra Nova Sector**  
><strong><em>I.S.S.<em> _Gladius_**

**_(Two weeks earlier)_**

Commander Tucker was completely focused on the PADD in his hand. The complexity of the schematic was…just incredible. And that _after _the computer techs had spent several hours cracking the accompanying text. At least now he could keep track of what the heck he was looking at.

Sort of.

Whoever these people had been, their technology was mind-boggling.

He was pretty sure it was intended more for some kind of computer reader or automated drafter of some kind. Although why a machine would need a literal _schematic _he couldn't quite figure. There was sure no way an actual _person _was supposed to be able to work from this thing, though. Not someone with less that super-human cognitive abilities anyway.

And then you'd have to wonder why they'd need a blueprint instead of just conjuring something into being by pure force of will with those super-mega-brains of theirs.

He was pretty sure it was supposed to manage the reformation of complex proteins in order to…

Well, wait a minute…this thing was basically just a protein resequencer, wasn't it? Except not _just_ proteins.

At least, he was pretty sure it was something like that.

Well, no. That wasn't right.

"Tucker."

Part of his awareness registered that as the captain's voice behind him. Slightly impatient, demanding. Expecting an answer. He really didn't want to back his brain out of the knot it was in the middle of just then. It'd take a half hour to figure out where he'd left off with this thing…

"_Tucker_."

Assuming he could find where he'd left off at all. It was kinda like finding your way through four or five different three-dimensional mazes that all got mashed into one, big nasty tangle. Made out of funhouse mirrors. After someone injected you with a mild hallucinogen.

Like those injectors...what the heck were they supposed to inject? There wasn't anything to make that clear, which meant he'd have to backtrack along _that_ system to figure _that_ out...

"Tucker!"

They were like naked ladies juggling torches all over the place, trying their best to try to distract your attention away from figuring out why in the world it had to be _platinum_ wires. And wearing those tassel things.

Or like that damned block of carbonite sitting right there, with all the power distributors plugged into it. What the hell exactly was that thing supposed to do? He really wanted to take a closer look at that but he still had to figure out what the heck the whole system was supposed to be using for conductors in the first place…

"_Tucker!"_

Well, hell, fine then.

Tucker sighed deeply and pulled his brain back out the mix.

"Yeah, captain." He said. His voice both tired and heavy with regret.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Captain Pike asked.

Trip could tell he hadn't decided whether to be angry or amused yet. Which was good, at least.

But then again…

"Captain!" He said, suddenly brightening. It occurred to him that he could actually tell someone about all this amazing stuff.

He grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. "These schematics…" And found himself kind of gaping his mouth open and shut for a second there.

Hell, he was sorta at a loss for words. Couldn't think of a thing to say to communicate just how…

"That interesting, huh?" Pike smirked.

"Amazing!" Tucker exclaimed. "I don't know who these people were but…_incredible_!"

"Uh huh." Pike said. "Like that water bottle?"

"Well…" He said, his smile fading awkwardly.

Yeah. Okay. One of those had turned out to be a water bottle that kept…well, _water_…at room temperature. And, yes, it had taken them about eight hours to figure that out. _After _confidently informing the captain that he was absolutely certain it was some kind of field stabilizer…

"Now…that was _different_." Tucker insisted. "I'm pretty sure whoever designed that thing wasn't Human. So…keeping water at room temperature…I don't know, must have been a big deal to those guys."

Captain Pike smirked all the more.

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, Trip." He said. "Because we've got another load coming in."

Tucker immediately deflated. Back to tired and overwhelmed again.

"Damn. Captain…" He said. "You know I'm the last to complain about too much of a _good thing _but…we've still got a ton of this stuff to sort through already."

He gestured broadly with the PADD…out over the cargo bay, piled neck deep with bits and pieces of debris. Most of it trash or hunks of starship hull.

"There's quite a few nuggets of technological gold in there, sure." Trip said. "But you gotta _find _'em. If you even recognize what you're _looking _at. _Then _hack and translate everything. _Then _figure out what the heck…"

Captain Pike raised his hand. "I get it, Trip. Relax. This is the last one."

"It is? Why? I thought Archer was gonna have us out here until we picked this place clean."

"Yeah, well." Pike frowned. "That…whatever it is that keeps driving the crew crazy. It's getting worse. I don't know if we're drifting too close to this 'interphasic rift' thing or if it's just something that's naturally progressive."

"What happened?" Tucker asked. _Something _had happened.

"James." Pike said, frowning.

Trip closed his eyes and grimaced. "Damn. Is he okay?"

"It took a few security officers to take him down, as you can imagine. Broke his arm in two places. That makes fourteen crewmen disabled. Doc says he's pretty sure they'll all recover if we get them _out _of here…"

"And Archer actually _cares_?" Trip frowned. "Doubt that."

"Hell, no." Pike said. "Archer's a bastard. I told him your fancy warp engine upgrades were breaking down and we were about to get sucked into that thing. We can't pick up anything more without waiting for it pop out anyway."

Trip snorted. "My baby can handle any old interspatial rift the universe can throw at her…or…well, long as you don't park her on _top _of the thing, I mean."

"Well, Archer doesn't need to know that." Pike said. "So find some more room, get that last load of debris piled up and then we're getting the hell out of here before he _does _park us on top of that damned thing for a month."

"Right, you got it, captain." Trip said, distracted. Already engaging half his brain in figuring out exactly where he'd left off with this molecular sequencer…or…

No, wait. Maybe…could be an _engine _part. Now, if you ran _plasma _through this thing…

* * *

><p>Admiral Archer was brusque, as always. Impatient, wanting to get to the point. Wanting, more or less, to yell at someone just for the pleasure of yelling at someone. Captain Pike and the other senior officers were wisely letting Commander Tucker take the heat. With the exception of Pike, most of them were busy trying to figure out how to disappear into their chairs.<p>

"How many different species are we talking about here, Commander?" Archer snapped.

The huge pile of techo-gadgets and…_trash _taking up the conference table was beginning to make him angry. He wanted _answers_.

"Well…far as I can tell…just three." Tucker said. "Or maybe four. Most of this is Human, just from different…well, I don't know. Timelines, universes?"

He picked up the black pistol from the conference table.

"Like this." He said. "Just a phase pistol. Pretty _powerful _phase pistol but not a thing in here we don't have already. Except for the power cell. That uses aluminum to hold a charge."

"How do you get aluminum to hold charge like that?" Captain Pike asked.

Tucker shrugged. "Beats me. Not just aluminum. Copper and few interesting chemicals in there. Definitely a battery or power cell of some kind. I could figure it out in a few months, if I did nothing but study on it night and day, but it really isn't worth the trouble. By the time I _did _figure it out our own technology would have caught up."

"Then what use is it?" Admiral Archer demanded.

"Can't see one." Tucker said. "Same with most of this stuff. Interesting…amazing, really…but no point wasting time reverse engineering it. The really interesting part, though?"

He turned the pistol around…tapping the emblem on the grip.

"I.S.S. issued, two years ago." He said. "At least that's what the inspection stamp says. In _Chinese_."

That got everyone's attention.

"They have Starfleet in this other universe?" Archer asked.

"Far as I can tell there's a buncha different ones in a buncha different…uh…universes." Tucker said. "And a couple of Earth Empires with a 'Terran Fleet', a Starfleet with about every species in the galaxy serving in it, a 'Spacefleet' that designates _its _ships 'U.S.S.' and a couple of 'Human Federations' of this or that. And that's not all…"

"Wait a damn minute!" Archer barked. "You said 'two or three'. How many different realities are we talking about?"

"Well…" Tucker said, surprised. "Two or three _species_. We've probably got gear from a couple of dozen different realities and different timelines in here. Just most of them Human. I don't know who these aliens were, probably have some of their gear in here somewhere, but they were pulling ships into their trap from all over the place. Kinda glad I don't share a reality with them, with all the technology they've picked up over who knows how long."

"And _our_ reality is their dumping ground." Captain Pike frowned.

"I don't think they know that." Tucker said. "Far as I can tell a lot of debris just falls through the cracks and ends up here for some reason. They probably don't even know they're missing all this stuff."

"Good for us." Pike muttered.

"Yeah, but it gets weirder." Trip said, digging out two identical cups.

"Both of these are just like the cups we've got in the mess right now. But each of them are from two completely different ships with the same name."

Trip turned them around to show the emblems on the side. One marked '_I.S.S Enterprise_', the other '_U.S.S Enterprise_.'

"_Enterprise_. Now tell me what are the odds of that, considering we have Admiral Archer standing right here?"

Archer had commanded the _I.S.S. Enterprise_ until he'd made Rear Admiral…only six months ago.

"How the hell is _that_ possible?" Archer said. Looking more than a little paranoid suddenly. And sweaty.

Trip shrugged. "I'd guess things just kinda go along roughly the same lines in these different realities. I'd bet one or both of these '_Enterprises_' had a Captain Archer commanding it. Maybe even an _alien_ named Archer or something. But then again, we're sitting here in the _Gladius _and I can't find a thing with _our _ship's name printed or stamped on it anywhere. I've found a _Defiant_, three _Endeavors_ and a _Challenger_, though..."

"Okay. Trip." Captain Pike said, holding one hand forward. "This is all very fascinating. And…_confusing_…but do you have anything _useful _here?"

Trip stifled a grin then, scratching the side of his nose. "Well…yeah, I guess you could say that."

He turned to the conference room screen behind him, pressing a button to call up…a logo not a single one of them recognized, even with 'Starfleet Command' printed right across the top.

Never mind the 'Republic of Planets' none of them had ever heard of.

"Hanson and his team finally broke the encryption on that little black box. Turns out it's a database. A _big_ one. Now _this _you're going to love."

He tapped a button scrolling down…down, _down_…way, _way_ down...to an indiscernible jumble of intersecting blue and white scribbles…a blue print, apparently. An extremely complicated one.

"The U.S.S. Dakota. 'Prometheus' class light interdictor, commissioned by the 'Stellar Republic of Planets'…in the year 2382."

Astonished murmurs around the table again.

"Holy _crap_, Trip…" Pike said.

"Full technical readouts, blue prints, schematics…the whole works. You want me to start with the 'hyper-warp engine' or the 'phaser arrays'?"

A dozen faces gaped in wonder around the conference table.

_"And_…" Tucker said, rapping the screen happily with his knuckle. "This is just a _part_ of that data base. We cracked the whole thing wide open."


	9. Chapter 8

**_Seleya  
><em>Private Freighter Vessel**

"Close in." T'Pol ordered. "Starboard side, phase cannon remain ready."

T'Pol watched the _Hannibal _drift in space for exactly 5 seconds. That was how long she estimated it would take for the Human to recognize and accept that his warp engine had been disabled, suffer an emotional outburst of some sort concerning it, lose himself to panic and begin the pointless attempt to outrun them on impulse engines.

After 5.5 seconds the _Hannibal_ continued to drift, confirming her second estimation…the Human was an adequate Starfleet officer and, rather than panic, was doing exactly what he'd been trained to do.

"Travis." T'Pol said. "Dock. _Quickly_."

She needed only glance at Malcolm before he was right behind her, heading for the airlock.

* * *

><p>Malcolm was a little surprised to see T'Pol tap the override and force the airlock open before the system indicated it was safe to do so. A small risk, as they could be fairly sure their attack hadn't compromised the <em>Hannibal's <em>hull integrity…but it was a risk nonetheless.

And T'Pol didn't take risks lightly, great or small. She was fairly well 'Vulcan' when it came to things like that.

Following her inside, phase pistol at the ready, he stepped left toward the bridge once she'd passed through…nearly stumbling when he realized she'd gone the _opposite _direction.

"Secure the bridge." She said, quietly.

Very well, then. He continued left, phase pistol before him as he moved cautiously ahead. This man had woken from stasis, taken control of a starship and flown it while plotting a warp jump, all in the course of perhaps ten minutes. Malcolm had no intention of underestimating him.

* * *

><p>T'Pol paused at the door to the engine room. It was slightly ajar, allowing the sounds of the older model SBA-type impulse engines to beat rhythmically through the hull and out into the corridor where she stood. It took a moment for her to categorize the multiple sound sets coming from within but she no more intended to walk through the door 'deaf' than she did blind.<p>

She pulled the old metal hatch open carefully before stepping through…and of course it squealed loudly in protest when she did.

So, then. Stealth was no longer an option.

"Commander." She called out, through the airlock. "There is no reason for concern. We do not intend any harm to you."

She stepped carefully through the hatch. Immediately she could see several panels had been tossed carelessly aside, allowing access to the inner workings of the _Hannibal's _outdated warp engine.

Her senses alert, she drew her phase pistol from her side before proceeding beyond the hatchway…and so spotted the nearly invisible wire running from beneath the discarded panel at her feet. With only a sleight turn of her head, she followed it to the simple fire extinguisher mounted almost, but not quite, out of sight on the support beam to her right.

Fascinating. The man had not only proceeded directly to engineering following their attack, in order to attempt repairs before they could board…but he'd even managed to set a trap for them as well. An extremely primitive one, granted. Apparently little more than a blast of carbon dioxide at face level, to cover a surprise attack from beyond. But he'd been significantly pressed for time.

She stepped _over _the panel carefully, partly focused on not triggering anything that might blast carbon dioxide in her face and partly on the far side of the engine housing, where she was certain the Commander waited to pounce.

Then her peripheral vision finally registered what it was seeing to her left.

T'Pol froze for a moment, reexamining the afterimage…then relaxed from her stance, letting her hands fall to her side and standing up straight again.

She turned her head slowly left to face the Starfleet officer aiming his own weapon at her from the shadows.

"Okay, let's all just take it easy." Tucker said, adjusting his grip on the phase pistol he held.

"I am calm." T'Pol said.

Tucker nodded, looking at her.

And continued looking. _Gazing_, in fact. Examining the features of her face and her outline. Long enough to cause her to raise an eyebrow in inquiry.

He shook his head, chuckling a little. "Sorry, I…" He said. "I just never thought I'd actually _meet _you."

T'Pol waited patiently for an opportunity to seize upon. And she wasn't sure she understood what the man was saying anyway.

"Hey…" He said, his brow furrowing. "Your eyes are green."

A pale red flash from above and Tucker collapsed with a grunt, his phase pistol clattering across the floor to T'Pol's feet.

She turned and looked up, finding Malcolm on the railing above her, just beginning to lower his weapon.

* * *

><p>In her own cargo bay, aboard the <em>Seleya<em>, T'Pol and Malcolm stood staring down at their captive. There was a significant amount of contemplation to be had here.

"You think he's a bit bonkers, maybe?" Malcolm suggested.

T'Pol continued to stare down at the man.

"I mean, I can't remember the last time I ran about pointing pistols at people, telling them what color their eyes were."

"He recognized me." T'Pol said. "And expected that my eyes would _not _be green."

"Well…I don't know." Malcolm said. "It's not exactly a common eye color for Vulcans, captain."

"Nevertheless." She insisted. "He knew my face. I am not adept at most complex Human facial expressions but I _am _familiar with that one. He recognized me."

"And you've never met this man before?" Malcolm asked.

"No. I have not."

"Which means someone showed him a picture, probably from your service record. When your eyes _were _brown."

T'Pol looked up at him finally. "Precisely."

He sighed. "Well, bloody hell."

They gazed down at the trouble that lay, literally enough, at their feet.

Malcolm shook his head sadly. "And here I thought the war was over."

* * *

><p>In the deepened void, the <em>Hannibal <em>drifted silently along. An otherwise perfect illustration of the peace and serenity of open space.

Presently, a flash erupted quietly from amidships, followed quickly by another equally silent and far more voracious burst of light and flame. Powerful enough to have destroyed the _Seleya _completely, had she been within a thousand kilometers.

But she had long since departed.

In moments, only a scattering of dust and debris remained, expanding outward at thousands of meters per second.

Until, only a moment later, it would have seemed there'd been nothing there at all.


	10. Chapter 9

_**Seleya  
><strong>_**Private Freighter Vessel**

Trip sat patiently. Waiting.

Well, not so much patiently as bored out of his mind. But there wasn't much he could do about it. Tinkering would be his normal method of alleviating boredom, assuming there wasn't some work somewhere that needed doing. Tinkering around in _here_, in an empty airlock, though…that probably wouldn't go very well.

Of course, if these Vulcans left him in here for much longer he might be tempted to exit through the nearest of the two doors. The one that _wasn't _locked.

It hadn't gotten quite that bad yet. But it was getting there…and it would sure give them something to logic themselves to death over.

The other door hissed for a moment, letting it be known that someone was about to open this place up finally. For a fleeting moment he was tempted to jump up and prepare to tangle with whomever was about to come through…

It passed. They were in space. Where was he going to go? The best he could hope for would be exchanging this room for a bigger one, until someone came along and just stunned him again.

That the man in the doorway was _Human_, though…well, now _that _was interesting.

"It's about time." Tucker said. "Not a lot to do in here."

The man smirked at that. Which, honestly, Trip found a bit relieving. He sorta assumed a Human working with Vulcans must be…well, what? Brainwashed?

Brain _damaged_?

"I'll tell you what, Commander." Malcolm said. "You answer a few questions and I'll leave you a deck of cards."

Ah, question time. Yippee.

Trip folded his arms. "Got nothing to say."

"Fair enough." Malcolm nodded.

He shut the airlock and cycled it again…from the outside.

Trip stared at the closed door for moment…then slumped, his head lolling to one side.

_Boredom_, he thought. _My only weakness._

"Okay, fine!" He said, loudly.

But the door didn't open again.

Trip groaned.

* * *

><p>T'Pol was able to pick up the Human's yell easily through the door. She would have thought it had been audible to Malcolm as well.<p>

"He wishes to speak." She said.

Malcolm shook his head. "Probably better to let him sit a bit. Drive home the point that we won't accept half-measures here."

T'Pol nodded. Very well then, they had plenty of time and Malcolm understood Humans better than she. She could trust his judgment here.

"I will attend to Tolaris while you wait." She said, turning away.

"I'll go with you." Malcolm said. "It will probably go better if we present a unified front."

Ah, so. T'Pol understood immediately. He'd left the Human isolated again not so much as an interrogation method but as an excuse to accompany her.

"That will not be necessary, Malcolm" She said. "Attend to the Human. I will deal with Tolaris. Alone."

Malcolm frowned but didn't say anything more. They'd worked together long enough that he knew she'd caught on to him.

T'Pol departed at that, likewise knowing he would raise no further objection. To do so would seem to call into question her ability to manage her crew. That was not the sort of thing Malcolm would ever allow himself to be accused of.

* * *

><p>Hoshi sat at her console, her hands uncomfortably full of nothing to do. They weren't likely to receive some kind of communication any time soon and no one had left her with any <em>other <em>duties, so…she looked across at Travis.

He was still busy working at his console, but with their destination already plotted and currently at warp, she figured he was probably just running diagnostics or something. Busy work.

So they'd been talking.

"So you're not pirates?" Hoshi said. "You just…what, steal things from people in space? Because…that's being a pirate."

Travis smiled. "We don't usually do that sort of thing. Mostly some smuggling. Usually just small cargo transport jobs. Most of the time? We're just dodging imperial taxes on…well, our last cargo was building materials for an Andorian colony. They couldn't afford it otherwise."

Hoshi frowned. Uh huh.

"Look, I don't want to be rude or anything." She said. "But…you guys just killed everyone on my ship. And you're just sitting here like it's no big deal. That kinda says 'pirate' to me."

Travis turned to look at her curiously then. She started feeling a little defensive at the examination before he finally spoke.

"How long have you been in space, Hoshi?" He asked.

"Two years." She said. "Or…well, almost…"

"Really?" Travis said, surprised. "Hoshi…we get into a fight almost every month. It's rough out here. People don't usually end up dead, okay, but…if the captain _killed _anyone, she had good reason."

When Hoshi didn't say anything, he continued.

"We're not pirates, Hoshi." He said. "But all it takes is to be willing to defense yourself. You'll get in plenty of fights."

"Hmm." Hoshi said.

He seemed sincere but she had a pretty hard time accepting it was _that _bad. But then, maybe she hadn't realized. She mostly stayed on the bridge and didn't even get off the ship unless they were parked someplace reputable…

"That's why it's good to be the pilot." Travis grinned. "I hear about most of that second hand and I don't even leave the ship unless we're somewhere I'm not going to get shot at."

Hoshi stared at him.

"What?" He said.

* * *

><p>T'Pol keyed the lock on the door and stepped through into Tolaris' quarters.<p>

Only three feet away on the floor, the remains of the cloth bindings that had held him. Torn and shredded.

_His teeth_, she thought. _I hadn't considered that._

She had no time to _think_, only to _react_. So she ducked and drove herself left.

_Hard. _

He would be on one side of the door or the other, waiting to ambush her. Left, she noted, fortunately. And so only a sleight alteration of her trajectory would drive her shoulder…

…into the wooden closet when he stepped and deflected her charge into it.

Before she could bounce away and sprawl on the floor, he already had her by the hair.

He was _fast_.

A quick, sharp thrust drove her face into the same closet that had nearly fractured her clavicle. This time the resulting 'crunch' informed her that it had managed to break her nose.

Then he flexed his arm backward and finally allowed her to slide across the floor, sprawling against the far wall.

The assault was too vicious and chaotic for her mind to keep up with. Some small amount of time passed in which she hadn't the sleightest idea what had occurred.

Except that he was sitting on her stomach now, he knees driving her elbows painfully into the floor. And her own phase pistol was lodged upward at her throat.


	11. Chapter 10

_**Seleya  
><strong>_**Private Freighter Vessel**

His plan foiled, Malcolm decided there was no point letting the Starfleet officer stew any longer. He _was _Starfleet, after all. Sooner or later he'd figure out some way to cause trouble, if he was left alone in there too long. If Tolaris got out of hand with T'Pol it wasn't as if he could fight him off anyway. The best he'd be able to do is shoot him. But he couldn't help but feeling anxious. It was his job to cover her back. He'd just have to stay handy in case she needed someone to shoot the crazy Vulcan. That much he could do.

Gladly, truth be told.

He cycled the airlock door again, opening it. And, thankfully, the Commander hadn't take the opportunity in the meantime to formulate some plan of attack. He was still sitting in the corner where he'd left him.

"What's your name?" Malcolm asked.

"Tucker." The man said, tapping his chest. "It's right here on my...aw, where the hell's my name tag?"

Malcolm was tempted to raise an eyebrow at that, but he caught himself in time. The captain was really starting to rub off on him.

"That's a good question." Malcolm said. "But let's start with 'they' instead. Who's 'they'?"

"Orions." Tucker said. "I know they put me in stasis anyway. I don't how I got from there to here."

"And why would Orions throw you into a stasis chamber?"

Tucker sighed tiredly, running his fingers through his hair.

"Okay, look." He said. "Let me just save us both some time. Starfleet thinks I went AWOL and took some technical data with me to sell on the black market. And it's Starfleet. They're not real patient with deserters. So…I was in hard spot. I was just trying to get a ride somewhere I could hide out, until I could think what to do."

Tucker frowned. "Then the damned green-skin I was dealing with figured out I was on the run from Starfleet. So somebody clocked me over the head and threw me in stasis, then I wake up on that ship. And that's it. That's the whole story."

Malcolm nodded. "Not quite. Why does Starfleet think you're AWOL with some kind of restricted tech?"

Tucker started to speak…then stopped.

"Long story. Doesn't matter." He said instead. "I don't have anything and I didn't even really go AWOL."

"Okay." Malcolm said. "I've got time for a long story. If you don't, that's fine. I can just come back later…"

"Wait." Tucker said, as Malcolm started to turn away. "Do I have to be in here? I'm not armed. Where am I gonna go?"

"Commander Tucker, Starfleet, Chief Engineer of the _Gladius_." Malcolm said. "The _last _thing I'm going to do is let you loose on this ship. Get comfortable."

Malcolm closed the door.

_Well, _Trip thought. _They're not as stupid as I was hoping._

Which meant the last thing they were going to do was let him _live. _They couldn't take the chance that he'd bring Starfleet down on their heads.

It was time to get out of there_._

* * *

><p>"T'Pol." Tolaris said, grinning down at her. He probably intended the open expression as an insult.<p>

He was breathing heavily at least, after having tossed her about the room as he had. But any hope she had of throwing him off would have to wait until her vision came into focus and the dizziness eased.

She reflected again that black market cybernetics weren't all they were said to be. And there wasn't much good said about them.

Tolaris nudged the phase pistol up under her jaw…just enough to ache.

"I think it's time I terminated my employment with you. _Captain_." He breathed.

"Tolaris." She rasped. "This is an unwise…"

"Shut up!" He snarled. "The only reason you're alive is the safe code. I'm taking everything in the ship's safe and then I'm taking the ship. Consider it severance pay."

He jabbed the pistol upward again, causing her to grunt involuntarily at the pain.

"I'm going to kill you, T'Pol. But first, I'll allow you to make the decision." Tolaris said. "You can give me that code…or I can _take _it. And I advise you decide quickly. I find taking it to be a very attractive option."

T'Pol made her decision easily enough. Surrender was never logical.

So she relaxed. And waited.

Tolaris chuckled. "Good girl."

His free hand came for her face but she didn't jerk away, as all her animal instincts howled for her to do.

She waited. And stared into his eyes.

And when his _katra _brushed against hers…she _leapt _and seized it.

* * *

><p>To her shame, Hoshi thought at first that she was looking at some kind of alien sex thing. If she had to guess how Vulcans did the nasty, that's about what she would have figured.<p>

But it only took a moment more to realize these two weren't having any kind of fun. It was some kind of Vulcan thing alright, but the kind that looked like it was going to leave one of them lobotomized or something.

And the one on top was the one that shot Murphy…

Without thinking she stepped forward and _kicked _out_. _A perfect side kick the likes of which she hadn't pulled off since she was a kid. The sole of her boot slammed against his head, sending Tolaris flying off T'Pol and against the nearby wall.

Only then did she realize that she'd picked a fight with a man easily ten times as strong as she was. But the moment his hand lost connection with T'Pol's face, Tolaris began to scream.

That was enough for Hoshi. She wasn't the sort to get into fights to begin with, if she could help it, and she'd just kicked someone right in the head on pure impulse. An _alien _someone, who could probably and quite literally tear her limb from limb. That he was suddenly screaming hysterically didn't help at all. Quite the opposite.

So she stumbled backward out of the room in a panic, tripped over the threshold and landed butt first in the corridor outside. From there she could still see him, though. And she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Tolaris lay on the floor next to T'Pol, grasping his head with both hands. His eyes were bulging out and the screams just kept coming. Even as T'Pol rolled weakly away to try to regain her feet, Hoshi could only stare.

* * *

><p>Malcolm took the steps up to the corridor all at once, his phase pistol at the ready. He only spared a glance at the sight of their new recruit sitting there staring horrified into the room. The screams coming from inside had already made it clear that the day he'd been waiting for had come at last.<p>

Taking cover against the doorway, he thrust his phase pistol through, ready to kill Tolaris the moment he drew a bead on him.

He rather expected to find T'Pol torturing the man, the way he was carrying on. But his instincts insisted _she _was in trouble and he'd learned to trust them when they spoke up.

What he certainly hadn't at all expected was to find T'Pol with her arms wrapped around the man's head from behind, gripping his chin in one hand and scalp in the other. And though the man had gone limp, he was _still_ screaming bloody murder.

Confusing him more was the fact that she wasn't applying any sort of pressure that he could see. She wasn't doing anything at all that should have cause him to scream like that.

What she very obviously _was _doing was preparing the break the man's neck.

"Captain…" He said, cautiously. Something had obviously gone very wrong with the little talk she'd planned to have with Tolaris. But, still…she was about to _kill _the man.

"Shut the door." T'Pol ordered.

Malcolm had time to reflect this was likely one of the most bizarre scenes he'd ever been exposed to. And he'd seen quite a lot of strange things over the years. But T'Pol was about to break a man's neck, who was screaming like a lunatic while doing nothing at all to stop her…and her nose was bleeding so badly that it ran down her face and straight on along the man's shoulder…dark green, of course, which made the whole scene even more bizarre somehow…

Malcolm was a soldier. So he didn't allow himself to get swept away here. He knew what to do when given an order in a tense situation. Even, and perhaps especially, when the reason for that order wasn't readily apparent.

You don't question it. You just do it.

Malcolm swapped the phase pistol to his other hand, reached out and shut the door. Only then did he realize…it was Hoshi…_that's _why T'Pol wanted him to shut the door. She was in shock already and what was about to happen wasn't going to help her much.


	12. Chapter 11

_**Seleya  
><strong>_**Private Freighter Vessel**

T'Pol entered the small sickbay of the _Seleya_, Malcolm and Hoshi following nearly close enough to intrude on her personal space. Stepping around the medical bed that occupied nearly half the small space of the room, she made for the sink and grasped the edge to lean over it. In the mirror mounted above she could see she's suffered a mild displacement of the cartilage in her nose, but that could easily be rectified.

Of course…there were Humans in the room.

"Hoshi." She said. "Return to the bridge and continue monitoring communications. Inform Travis of what has occurred so that he will know to report any contacts."

Hoshi disappeared immediately, likely awaiting some excuse to do so.

The effort to speak in a clear manner caused significant discomfort, T'Pol found. All the more reason to clear the room. Allowing the pain to impact her speech was completely intolerable.

"Malcolm…"

"I'll take care of Tolaris." He said.

T'Pol nodded slightly. "The starboard airlock would be most expedient. Wait for Mayweather's report. Attend to the bridge when the body has been disposed of."

"The bridge, captain?"

"We have suffered the loss of a crewman." She explained. "This will likely cause some emotional distress. I would prefer that you were there to monitor and participate in whatever interaction the other Humans require to adjust to the situation."

Malcolm stared for a moment. Then left to do as ordered. His captain didn't quite understand what in the world she was talking about sometimes when it came to Humans, but he figured she wasn't far off the mark there. Better that he be on hand to quell any hysteria, especially with the new crewman. She'd witnessed quite a lot of violence in the last eight hours and he wasn't familiar enough with her to guess at how she'd react.

With the room finally cleared, T'Pol continued to lean over the sink and allow her nose to bleed. Ending Tolaris' life had been a regrettable necessity, she reasoned. While there had been only a small chance their struggle would have left him functional…regardless, there had at least been _some _chance. But Hoshi's intervention and the abrupt severing of contact at that particular moment had clearly broken his mind. There had been no other choice.

It had been exceedingly fortunate that he had been so surprised at her counter-assault. Had she not gained a position of dominance early in the struggle, it could easily have been she who had been reduced to madness. Or, more likely, both of them.

But she was extremely fatigued nonetheless.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she grasped the bridge of her nose and _nudged _it to one side…

The wave of pain and nausea was easily managed, but her knees nearly buckled in the process. She hadn't been prepared for quite _that _level of pain.

Allowing herself a small gasp she gripped the edge of the sink and waited until she had regained control. Once she'd retrieved a cold compress from the cabinet to place at her neck, there only remained to clean the blood from her face and grip the bridge of her nose to forestall any further blood loss.

With all the necessary first aid rendered, she sat on the medical bed and waited. Once she was sure the bleeding had stopped she would require a second cold compress for her nose, or risk swelling that would have a marked effect on negotiations and command. Especially with Humans and other species who's interactions were so heavily influenced by personal appearance.

Following that, she would be required to assess the reactions of the crew. Primarily to ensure crew morale and general efficiently remained adequate. If the Starfleet officer in the airlock did not produce some profitable avenue to pursue then they would be required to procure further employment, most likely with clients they were unfamiliar with. That alone..

T'Pol began to lose her train of thought. The incidents of the past eight hours had proven strenuous. It was beginning to impair her ability to remain focused.

Regardless, following the assessment and management of the crew, the next step would be to interrogate the engineer. She found herself looking forward to that, in fact. Despite Malcolm's claims of Vulcans being insufferably curious, it was not normally a major trait of her race. She's was merely the exception there.

The strange look on the man's face when he'd first seen her, his obviously recognition and the multiple oddities he'd uttered leading up to that encounter…those questions all needed to be answered. There was something extremely compelling about that man and she intended to get to the bottom of it.

All justified, of course, by the high probability that there was significant profit to be had somehow. Mr. Smith had kept the man captive and had expended a great deal of influence and money to secure an electronic key capable of opening the chamber safely. Knowing Mr. Smith as she did, she was certain there was no other explanation for that than profit.

Thankfully, T'Pol wasn't quite fatigued enough to be startled at the sound coming from inside the nearby wall, once she had detected it. She was able to notice it, isolate the sound and track it as it moved along the port wall of the room. Thus, she was able to identify one sound in particular.

A grunt.

Someone was inside the bulkhead…now apparently attempting to enter the adjacent ventilation duct.

Logically, it was the engineer. Granted, he was supposed to be secured in the airlock and that rendered the possibility extremely remote, but it was still the only logical explanation.

T'Pol moved to the sink again, the compress still held firmly to the back of her neck. There she could monitor the grill on the wall near the floor. It was obviously where he intended to exit.

Her nose had stopped bleeding, she determined, so she was able to free one hand at least. Hopefully she would not be required to interact violently with him when he emerged. With any luck she would able to apply the second compress to her nose in the course of interacting with the engineer, rather than being forced to apprehend him.

T'Pol waited, her face throbbing, observing the surprisingly clever use of two short lengths of wire and a button to unhinge the fasteners that kept the grill in place. It took a moment longer for the grill to be maneuvered out of the way carefully before the engineer finally began to pull himself awkwardly out of the small shaft.

She waited, expecting he'd notice her before he wiggled more than halfway out. And he did.

The two stared at one another for a moment. T'Pol simply offering him the opportunity to speak first, hoping that simple act of politeness would put him somewhat at ease. Tucker, of course, was shocked to find himself crawling out of the shaft right at her feet.

"Hi." He said, finally.

"Hello." She said.

"So…uh…"

"Do not move." She warned.

"…okay."

She regarded him for a moment. His face was streaked with grease and dirt from having crawled through several dozens meters of maintenance shafts, ventilation ducts and, she could only assume, the innards of the ship's bulkheads themselves. His uniform was dirtied as well, torn at one spot on his shoulder. She found herself surprisingly concerned at that. Only _mildly _concerned but nevertheless.

It was quite impressive, actually. She would have thought the bulkheads themselves inaccessible from within the airlocks. That would have to be seen to, if they were to continue to utilize them to hold captives of any sort.

"Commander. You were left in the airlock. If Malcolm failed to explain the reasoning to you, then this was so that you would be detained there."

"Right…well, look. It's not what it…wait, _Malcolm_?"

"My second in command." She said. "He is the one that shot you aboard the _Hannibal_. If he were here, I've no doubt he would shoot you again."

"Right." Tucker chuckled. "I guess he would. Uh…look, can I…?"

"No. Remain where you are."

Tucker sighed. "Not exactly a dignified position here."

"This is your own doing. I have questions I require you to answer."

Tucker considered his situation. All the Vulcan need do was stomp on his head once or twice and he'd be right back in the airlock. Or tied up and tossed in the cargo bay.

Or maybe tossed _out _the airlock, since he'd rather played his hand here. They had to know there was no way they were going to keep him locked up anywhere now. It wasn't like he had a lot of options…

"Okay." He said. "How about…no. I'm not answering any questions. Or doing any damned thing else until I can stand up. And maybe wash off a bit. You've got a perfectly good sink right there you ain't using."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, expressing surprise. And perhaps a warning that he was dangerously close to being stomped on.

After a moment's reflection, she decided to try another approach.

"I believe you have questions of your own." She said.

"Damned right I do." Tucker said. "Like where the hell am I and who the hell are you people?"

T'Pol nodded.

"Then it would be equitable for us both to exchange information. Neither of us will be adequately prepared to make decisions concerning further interaction without several issues being laid to rest."

Tucker closed his eyes and muttered. "_Goddamned Vulcans_…"

"I will answer your question first, then you will answer one of mine. And we will proceed from there."


	13. Chapter 12

**Terra Nova Sector  
><strong>_**I.S.S. Gladius**_

_**(12 days earlier)**_

Tucker presented his neck for injection, thankful yet again for the miracle of hypospray technology. As often as he'd visited sickbay for plasma burns and every other malady an engineer could suffer, his neck would be a mass of scar tissue by now if the Doc relied on some kind of primitive _needle _or something.

"We're sure this stuff will keep us from going crazy?" He asked.

"Not exactly…" Doctor Simmons admitted. "The best we can do is reduce nervous system sensitivity. I'm still not sure how this spatial distortion effects the…"

"This isn't going to make me _numb_, is it? I've got _work _to do, doc."

"Tucker." Captain Pike broke in. "We've got 28 crewman out of commission because of this thing. Eight in _your _department. If keeping this ship anywhere this side of complete chaos means you can't feel your fingertips for a while, then deal with it."

Doctor Simmons looked worried. "I still can't guarantee anything like immunity, captain. Can't even say for certain how effective this will be."

"Well, it's all we've got." Pike frowned. "As long as we're stuck here, we have to make do."

Tucker frowned at that. "Well, I can't believe Starfleet is willing to takes this kind of risk. In fact, Captain…I kinda doubt Archer gave them all the details on our little situation here."

"You can just stow that right now, Trip." Pike warned. "I may not have a lot good to say about Archer myself but I can get away it. _You can't. _That said…he may be an insufferable blowhard but he didn't make Admiral by accident. He's got the big find he was hoping for with that database of yours, so I don't think he wants to be here any more than we do."

The medical bay doors slid open and Admiral Archer walked through, making a beeline for the group of officers right away.

"Captain Pike." He said. "I trust you've issued the command staff their injections?"

Pike nodded. "Tucker's the last, and you received yours on the bridge, so we'll start herding the NCO's through here..."

"Well make it quick." Archer snapped. "We can't afford another incident like Parkens."

"Minor damage, Admiral." Tucker said. "My team's already on it. One hour and we'll have full impulse again. Another half hour and we'll..."

"Commander Tucker, I'm sure you're doing a thorough job." Archer said. "But all I'm concerned about at the moment is keeping this ship alive for one more hour. When that rift opens up again, I intend to grab just enough of whatever comes out of it that I can say I did my job and then we are going _home_. That'll require the minimal number of crewmen necessary to fly this ship, a number we're already dangerously close to. And a propulsion system of some kind, not unlike the one that's suffered three attempts at sabotage under _your _watch."

Captain Pike could see Tucker was about to explode. What was coming was about as likely to result in a courts martial as it was a summary execution.

Archer did not respond well to insubordination.

He took a deep breath. Time to give it a shot. What the hell, right?

"Sir." Pike said. "There's got to be a point where we recognize…"

"Jack, we've already discussed this. I don't want to hear it."

"Dammit, Admiral." Pike said. "I don't even have enough security officers to guard engineering properly and there's no guarantee the next crewmen to lose it won't be one of them anyway! We're long past the point…"

"Enough!" Archer snapped.

He glared at both the men before him. Men he would otherwise acknowledge as competent and reliable Starfleet officers.

But they both needed to shut the hell up and do what they were told. And they weren't doing that.

"Now, you two listen to me." He said…then remembered the doctor nearby.

"Doctor, you're dismissed."

Archer waited until the man was gone. Which, thanks to a well cultivated history of brooking absolutely no dissent to his authority, didn't take long.

"Now." Archer said. "I realize you two have been out exploring the wonders of the universe for the last four years. I understand that. It's hard to keep up with the news. But I've been on the command line for the last few months. Long enough to get a good handle of what's going on behind the scenes and how things are done. _Back home_."

Archer's glare grew harder, something neither of the men would have thought possible.

"Are you two even aware we have a new president? And on what platform he ran? Humanity has been accused of tyranny and bigotry before but you two have no _idea _what's coming down the pipe these days. What do you two think Starfleet intends to do with this technology? Why they're willing to risk the _Gladius _securing it? You think if we lose this ship they won't just send _three more _to pick up where we left off?"

"What the hell are you talking about, John?" Pike demanded.

"We're looking at an aggression expansion in the next few months. Primarily on the Romulan front. The situation there has been intolerable for a long time. Add to that the protests and riots outside imperial stations on Andoria and Tellar, and the sudden backbone a few dozen other planets are suddenly developing…the folks back home don't exactly like the idea that the lesser races out here might start throwing rocks again."

Pike turned away, rubbing his neck in agitation. Tucker was confused.

"Are you talking about some kind of…?"

"He's talking about Starfleet wanting bigger rocks to throw back." Pike said, frowning. "To throw _first_, in fact."

"Exactly." Archer said. "And this interphasic rift you've discovered presents them with…"

The ship tilted sharply, it's wall reverberating with a hollow thump from somewhere aft. A shrieking alarm began to wail a second later.

"What the hell now?" Pike snapped.

"That's was the port…aw, God, no…" Trip said, jumping up from the exam table to smack the intercom impatiently.

"Tucker to Engineering!"

"_Commander! I think the port coolant tank just ruptu…!"_

"Get a fire team down to 'E' deck! Pick up any security you can on the way, on my orders! That wasn't an accident!"

"_Yes, sir. I think I can…"_

"_Now, Kelby!"_

"_Yes, sir!"_

"Trip?" Pike asked.

He was already dashing for the exit. "Somebody just cut the port fuel line!" And he was gone.

Pike and Archer glanced in surprise at one another. Getting to that line and opening it would require a cutting tool at least.

Or a phase pistol.

Either one would serve as an ignition source in the process, so whoever had done it was already dead…but the whole rear section of 'E' deck would be engulfed in flames hot enough to melt steel.


	14. Chapter 13

_**Seleya  
><strong>_**Private Freighter Vessel**

"Well, I can't say I'm sorry to be rid of him." Travis said.

At Hoshi astonished look, he hastened to add. "I know how that sounds, Hoshi, but you didn't _know _this guy."

"He certainly wasn't the most likable person." Malcolm said. "Nor the most mentally stable."

"Ran around the ship _naked _half time, usually with a phase pistol in his hand." Travis insisted. "Threatened to kill me one time because I ate the last of the _peanut butter_."

Malcolm smirked. "I don't know if it's possible to be a sociopath, a sadist _and _a Vulcan but…"

"If it isn't, then he did a real good impersonation of one." Travis finished.

Hoshi held up her hands to forestall any further explanation. "Alright, alright. He was a bad guy. I get it."

"No. You don't." Malcolm said, frowning grimly. "And probably best you never got the chance to figure it out. I wasn't looking forward to having both of you on the ship at one time. Tolaris didn't have the best history with women."

"Why? What?" Hoshi asked. That would have been really good to know _before _now.

Travis answered "I'm not really clear on the details but he was wanted on a couple of worlds…"

"Around a dozen, actually." Malcolm said.

"He killed that prostitute at Lishki's Station." Travis nodded at Malcolm. "That was real mess."

"Would have killed that Orion woman that time, if we hadn't had to leave in a hurry just then." Malcolm pointed out.

"Right." Travis said. "I still don't know _how _we got out of that one."

"Okay, wait a minute!" Hoshi exclaimed. "If he was _that _bad, why'd you even keep him around?"

Malcolm and Travis looked at each other, as if the answer was obvious.

"He was _very _good with a phase pistol." Travis said.

Hoshi stared for a moment…

"So? So what?" She said.

Travis glanced back at Malcolm again before continuing.

"Hoshi…like I said, we get into a lot of trouble sometimes…"

"Dealing with a crazy Vulcan every day is easier than being _dead_." Malcolm said.

Travis shrugged. "You take what you can get out here. A lot of times…some sadistic, murderer is the best you can do."

* * *

><p>T'Pol dropped the cold compress into the sink alongside the other one. They'd both since lost their chill and weren't doing much good any longer. And certainly it didn't help the interrogation having to tend to her wounds during the course of it.<p>

Her nose was slightly swollen, however. And, strangely, she found herself unusually self-conscious about that.

She turned her attention back to the Human on the floor. Upon whom she rested one foot comfortably to reiterate the point that he should not attempt to stand up.

"Yes, older model cyber-organic composites obtained through Orion brokers." She answered. "The surgery was performed on Ansalon IV by a Denobulan I became acquainted with during the war. It was a simple matter of replacing the temporary implants I received in the Imperial Detention Center on Vulcan following the Earth annexation...

"Okay, right." Tucker said. "But they _were _brown? _Before_, I mean."

"Hazel brown, actually." She said. "And now it is my turn again. It was clear to me that you recognized me when we encountered one another aboard the _Hannibal_. Under what circumstances did you become aware of me prior to that incident?"

"I read about you in a file." Tucker said.

T'Pol waited until she was certain he did not intend to elaborate, then shifted her foot slightly on his chest to remind him it was still there.

"You must expound on your answer, Commander Tucker." She said.

He ignored her. "You said a _Denobulan _did the surgery. What was his name?"

"That would constitute a separate question, and so you must wait until your next turn to submit it."

"I _answered _your question, it's _already _my turn."

"Hardly. I asked for the circumstances that led to your awareness of me prior to our first encounter. You answered only that you had read of me in a file. That does not answer the question fully."

"It was a file. You were in it. I read it. I dunno what else I'm supposed to say about that." Tucker shrugged.

"What manner of file was it? Who compiled this file? How did you gain access to this file? Where you given the file for some purpose? What was the intent behind gathering information concerning me into a file? There are many areas here that require explanation."

"Look, you can't keep asking questions that have all these _other_ questions hidden in there and then tell _me _I can't ask follow up questions. That's not fair."

"I have not. Rather, you continue to minimize your answers even as I answer you fully. That is not equitable. If you continue in this manner, Commander Tucker, it may become expedient for me to turn this interrogation over to Malcolm. He will not be as agreeable in his methods."

"And _now _you're _threatening _me." Tucker said, throwing up his hands.

Or, as much as he _could _throw his hands up while sticking halfway out of a cramped ventilation shaft with a Vulcan foot planted so close to his throat.

T'Pol was beginning to struggle with frustration. This man had proven quite adept at derailing, obfuscating and generally _prolonging _the interrogation. And while she _could _follow through with her bluff and order Malcolm to force answers out of the man…that would certainly tempt Malcolm to significant bitterness and resentment. He still harbored some sense of honor from his days as a Starfleet officer and she was certain he would disagree with such an order.

He would undoubtedly follow it, of course. But she simply could not afford to alienate him.

"Commander Tucker, I will appeal to you once more to utilize logic and reason." She said. "You are captive and eventually you will give us all the information that we require of you. To continue to resist is not logical."

"And as soon as I do, I'm dead. So holding out seems pretty damned logical to me."

T'Pol quirked an eyebrow at the man, tilting her head. So he was concerned they would murder him.

That presented something of an opportunity, then.

"I will not kill you if it is not necessary to do so, Commander." She said. "Therefore, it behooves you to ensure that it is not necessary."

"And how I am supposed to do that?" Tucker challenged. "I tell you what you want to know, then you have no reason to keep a Starfleet officer around and risk all the trouble that comes with that. I'd guess they're already looking for me pretty hard and when they _find_ me, they'll go right through _you _to get to me. I'm not an idiot. As soon as you get what you want, I take a dive out the nearest airlock."

"Then you must present me with something that makes it profitable to keep you alive." T'Pol said. "Profitable enough to risk a potential conflict with Starfleet."

* * *

><p>While Travis and Hoshi continued to chat, Malcolm had since become aware just how long it had been since he'd left T'Pol in sickbay. Over an hour at least.<p>

That seemed a long time to deal with a nose bleed.

He began to wonder, and really, to _suspect_, that she might be struggling with some sort of emotional issue. Or whatever the Vulcan equivalent of that might be. A _logical _issue maybe? She had, after all, just been forced to physically take the life of one of her own crewmen, no matter that he wasn't a very 'agreeable' sort to begin with and had just attacked her.

Regardless, while the possibility that the captain was in some crisis was certainly troubling, especially considering it was taking her the better part of an hour to work through it…assuming that _was _the problem back there…Well, he really wasn't qualified to deal with that sort of thing. Mostly, he just shot people and blew things up. And manned the tactical station and ship's weapon system. And disposed of the occasional body.

Dealing with _that _sort of thing just wasn't his job. That seemed something more for Travis, maybe.

Or Hoshi? She was supposed to be their comm officer. Maybe that indicated she was good with people…and she spoke so many different languages…maybe she was good at dealing with Vulcans as well then?

Or…well…

Bloody hell. He was going to have to go back there and check on the captain. There wasn't any getting around that. If she was having some kind of crisis, he couldn't very well let either of _these _two stumble in on it. That would be disastrous for morale…

Slipping away without having to make up some excuse to do so, that was easy enough. The two seemed to be hitting it off, rather. Neither so much as noticed him step out down the corridor.

A little disappointing, that. But maybe he'd just been a bit too long without any sort of female companionship. He _should _be relieved that Travis had a bird to keep him occupied a bit. It would certainly cut down on his habit of chatting up every subject unrelated to the ship and their duties, as he so insisted on doing.

He wasn't exactly jealous or anything of the sort. But he had to admit it was strangely…_disquieting_…for some odd reason…

And there were voices coming from sickbay. T'Pol and…

The Starfleet officer.

Malcolm drew his phase pistol. He'd managed to escape from the airlock somehow after all. As he'd damned well knew he would, if left alone long enough. And now he was threatening the captain, having caught her already wounded and undoubtedly weakened from her struggle with Tolaris…

Or…

Well, wait. What's all this?

"I do not understand." T'Pol was saying. "If the woman presented an obstacle to your obeying the orders of your superiors, I would assume a Starfleet officer would respond in a violent manner."

The captain was, Malcolm could hardly believe his eyes, sitting comfortably on the medical bed. And the Starfleet officer, Tucker, in a chair right in front of her. With his feet propped up on the very same bed.

They were chatting. Like old pals.

"Well. I felt sort of bad." Tucker was saying. "I mean, I sneak through the window to retrieve this communicator that got left behind…and suddenly there's this woman all over me thinking I've come for some kind of…romantic rendezvous or something."

"I also do not understand why she would have come to this conclusion." T'Pol said, curiously. "Did you not imply that you met her only an hour prior and had little interaction?"

"Well, yeah, but we _flirted _a bit." Tucker said. "So I guess I can see how she might have thought what she did. But it still took me by surprise."

"And so, for this reason, you did not report accurately concerning your failure to retrieve the communicator."

"No way!" Tucker laughed. "There was no _way _I was going to tell anyone what had happened. I barely got out of that in one piece!"

"She was exceptional aggressive?"

"Oh, you could definitely say _that_."

"This then is the point I have difficulty understanding." T'Pol said. "It would seem your emotional responses to the incident led to your failure to retrieve the communicator. I would assume that the fellow Humans on your crew would understand this…"

"Well, sure. But they'd never _admit _they understood it and sure as hell would _never _let me live it down. So I just told the captain I couldn't pick the lock and left it at that."

T'Pol considered.

"Then I confess I do not understand why it was necessary to submit a false report of the incident. The intricacies of Human behavior undoubtedly…"

"Uh…captain?" Malcolm ventured.

They both turned to him, apparently unaware he'd been standing there staring at them the whole while.

Hadn't he just left this same situation a moment ago?

"Malcolm." T'Pol said. "I have new orders for Travis."

She turned slightly and picked up a PADD from the bed beside her, offering it to him.

Despite the fact that it required him to nearly reach over the…_prisoner_…to accept it.

"Coordinates for our next job. Inform him to set a course and proceed there immediately at maximum sustainable warp."

Malcolm accepted the PADD in confusion, still eyeing the Starfleet officer suspiciously in case he…_tried _something.

"We…uh…have a client, captain?"

"Indeed." T'Pol said. "Commander Tucker has employed us, for three times our standard percentage of all profits."


	15. Chapter 14

**Terra Nova Sector  
><strong>_**I.S.S. Gladius  
><strong>__**(10 days earlier)**_

"So this is what again?" Tucker asked. He turned to transparent plastic case over a time or two, examining the contents. Three standard data discs, all wired together with rewriters and a mish-mash of electronics…it was obviously a homemade compact storage device. A very secure one. The question, of course, was…why?

"Just what it looks like." Hess said. "A kludged together memory unit. Something this other Tucker put together and installed himself."

"And it was installed on his personal computer console?" Tucker asked.

"As far as we can tell. It was slaved to a chunk of debris that we're pretty sure was his personal console."

Tucker turned the case over again, in case something jumped out at him. Nothing did.

"Why would I need that much extra memory on my personal console?" He wondered. "I doubt the ship's computer core lacked for memory or anything."

"Well…uh..." Hess said.

What the hell? That got his attention away from the gadget. Was Hess _fidgeting_?

Tucker took a second look at the case in his hand. It looked pretty damned menacing all of a sudden.

"Sir…" Hess hesitated. "You might want to look over some of your…I mean, some of _his…_files. Especially the, uh, personal correspondence."

"What is it, Hess? I wasn't…I mean, _he _wasn't…doing anything _illegal _on here, was he?"

"I think…sort of…sir." Hess said, nodding. "Or actually…illegal according to _our _laws. I'm not sure how they did things in this other reality…in fact, now that I think about it maybe it _wouldn't _be a big deal to them…but if that were the case then I don't know _why _you'd want…I mean _he'd _want…to hide it like this if it wasn't something…questionable."

Hess was babbling a little.

"Okay, Hess, what? _What_ was I doing with…?" Tucker grimaced. "I mean…what was…_he_…dammit, you know what I mean."

"Yes, sir." She said.

And she fidgeted. And averted her eyes. And generally looked as if this were precisely where she didn't want to be just then.

Tucker waited. More to see if she was going to bolt or stick it out.

"Okay. Hess." He snapped. "_What_?"

"Sir, can you just…?" Hess begged. "I mean, I only read _one _of…I'm not really even sure…"

Tucker sighed. "Hess, just forget it. I'll look at it myself. Go…find something to do. Bravo team could probably use a hand on Deck E."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

><p>…<em>therefore, it is my intent with this communication only to integrate this method of perceptual, virtual contact with my own personal emotional disciplines, as it has proven beneficial in the maintenance of our bond. Additionally, I recognize it is effective in addressing your own emotional requirements, though to a lesser degree.<em>

_Allow me to assure you then that your absence has not proven an insurmountable obstacle to my continued health, well-being and overall productivity, a point you previously expressed concerns regarding. Rather, while it remains difficult, our bond continues to sustain me, in as far as I am aware that your absence represents only a temporary period of limited contact. I trust that the emotional strength you have exercised in the past continues to sustain you until your return. I am well prepared to attend to your emotional needs personally at that time and acknowledge that the fulfillment that results from doing will remain logical to pursue._

_Further, your projections of future physical affections are exceptionally beneficial. I find a daily review of those portions of your communications among the most effective methods of alleviating the distress in our bond, for a variety of reasons. I patiently await the opportunity to address these projections personally, acknowledging the inherent logic in doing so. Additionally, I have appended suggestions of my own for your consideration in the attached encrypted file. _

_Your input concerning these would be imminently agreeable and I encourage you to continue submitting your own suggestions as well. Likewise in encrypted form._

_Finally, I have included Education Progress Reports for both Elizabeth and T'Lil, as well as the additional photographic documentation of daily living activities and physical health assessment that you requested. You may find the video documentation in the appended file: 'Elizabeth, Annual Birth Recognition, Seventh' of particular interest._

_If you require any additional reports concerning the progress of our offspring during your absence, beyond those submitted routinely, you may forward your request at your earliest convenience. I will continue to address any points of concern that I am able to anticipate in the meantime._

_I await your response,_

_T'Pol_

[Decrypt attached file?]

Tucker stared at the text before him. He'd read it through five times already. The first couple of times just to wrap his head around the style of speech. The third time halfway through before he finally realized a _Vulcan _had written it. Then the fourth and fifth trying to figure out why the hell a Vulcan was writing him in the first place. He had stubbornly hoped it was merely a scientist or engineer consulting him…or an _alternate _him…on some kind of project.

Yeah, that might explain the talk of future projections. But future projections on _physical affection_? He wasn't even sure what the hell that was supposed to mean.

Kinda sounded like this Vulcan was a prostitute or something. That's about how he figured a Vulcan prostitute would talk. Or…write. Whatever. Not that he'd ever really thought about it before, it had just occurred to him that…yeah, that's probably how they would talk.

'Hey, big boy. For a mutually agreeable monetary exchange, we could engage in sexual relations for a period of twenty to thirty minutes. There is hotel around the corner that I suggest would be suitable for our needs…'

Still…it was obviously a _love letter_…sort of…so maybe he was a regular customer or something? He couldn't possibly be _involved _with some Vulcan woman, right?

Damn. What the hell kinda freak _was _this other Tucker? Canoodling around with other species wasn't _unheard _of or anything but…it was still illegal as all hell. And it was almost _always _some kind of prostitution thing. You get drunk on shore leave…wake up next to someone or something you picked up in bar…get a shot in sickbay a few days later for that _other _thing you picked up…

But not _him_. He'd _never_…I mean, that was just…

And dammit, he couldn't get around the obvious here…this Vulcan woman was sending him _school progress reports_. And talking about their _offspring_…

My God, was he actually _shacked up _with a Vulcan in this other reality? No wonder Hess nearly had a nervous breakdown out there. How many of these letters had she read? She said 'one' but…she was pretty tongue tied wasn't she?

[Decrypt attached file?]

So…do we want to decrypt the attached file, Trip?

Wait a minute. There's _12 gigabytes _of photo files in here. Let's flip through some of that and see who this Vulcan…_person_…is exactly…

Wow.

She's…kind of…wow…

Damn, Trip. Really. So maybe I can't blame you so much. But a _Vulcan_? Sure she's…attractive, to put it mildly, but…a _Vulcan_? If he were going to go slumming with the natives…well, maybe an Orion or something, sure…

Good God, even this letter…you can kind of read between the lines but still. The thing read like a research proposal. Like something he'd submit to Starfleet Technical.

[Decrypt attached file?]

Hmm.

Okay, so, what would a Vulcan consider 'intimate'? And why would she encrypt the file as deeply as she did this one?

And, now that he thought about it, his alternate self in this other reality had jury-rigged a secret memory storage unit to his console in his quarters, to store 35 gigabytes of encrypted letters and photos and video files and…

There had to be a reason he went through all that trouble to keep those files inaccessible to anyone else…

[Decrypt attached file?]

Damn.

Tucker sighed. Something told him it was an extremely stupid thing to do.

But…yeah.

[Decrypting Suggestions re: physical intimacy]

[Decryption complete.]

* * *

><p><strong>Terra Nova Sector<strong>  
><strong>I.S.S. Gladius<br>****(9 days earlier)**

[Decrypting Proposal re: intimacy (2/3)]

[Decryption complete.]

_Ashayam,_

_You will likely find it humorous that I was unable to read your last correspondence entirely through without distraction. In fact, I was forced to start over several times._

_Most agreeable among these distractions were the repeated imaginings provoked by your reminiscence of our initial sexual encounter on Risa. I find it difficult to manage the desire to repeat that encounter, however impossible, and thus illogical, that may be. However, it has occurred to me that portions of that initial encounter could easily be replicated with minor modifications._

_Specifically, I will focus first on a repetition of the manual exploration phase of that encounter, performed orally. This would, I suggest, provide not only the expected physical gratification but also an additional element of mutual nostalgic accord, with a mildly perverse twist that is well within acceptable behavioral boundaries._

_This was the fantasy provoked by your detailed recollections that I found most distracting. As I assume you will agree to an exploration of this, the details are as follows._

_First, as you aware, a particular spot two inches below my right shoulder has proven exceptionally responsive to oral stimulation. Obviously this modified reenactment would benefit greatly from special attention paid to this area at the onset. Likewise, I have found lightly scratching your scalp while you are engaged in ministrations of that sort has proven efficient at inducing lasting and manageable erectile responsiveness._

_Therefore, I recommend beginning with this method of mutual stimulation. In addition to this, as your hands remain free, I would suggest slow, circular caresses of my lower back immediately following positive verbal confirmation. If you recall, this was consistently shown…_

"Sir?"

Trip jumped, tapping the console quickly…and guiltily.

Hess was staring at him from the door of his office.

"Uh…yeah…Hess?" Tucker said. "What? I mean…what?"

Tucker saw what she was carrying.

Oh, God.

She was holding two more of those homemade storage units. Both almost identical to the unit he was examining now. And something else flat and black, which was probably a PADD from yet another reality.

And three portable drives.

And two removable PADD memory chips.

"Hess." Tucker said, carefully. "You're joking, right?"

Hess looked miserable…and slunk quickly in through the door to his office, both hands full of the incriminating data, to close the door behind her.

"There's…uh…there are some things I couldn't get to on the _Dakota_ database…"

"Wha…how…?" Tucker stuttered. "What the hell's on the _Dakota_? That thing is from two hundred years in the future! I should be dead by then, right?"

"Well…turns out they had families on the _Dakota_…"

"Families? They had _families_ on that ship?"

"Yes, sir. And so they had some kind of education center…so, when I ran a search on the database for anything that…uh…"

"Oh, God. Hess. Please don't tell me I'm in some history book or something…"

"Uh…yes, sir."

"I…are you…and it says something about this…T'Pol…Vulcan…person?"

"Yes, sir. And you, sir. A lot, actually. First recorded…uh, Human/Vulcan…marriage."

Tucker buried his face in his hands. "Hess. This is turning into some kind of nightmare."

Hess placed the stack of offending data material quietly on his desk. And sat down to wait.

"How many is that now?" Tucker asked, coming out of hiding.

"Fourteen, sir."

"Fourteen out of seventeen separate confirmed realities. Where I'm involved with a Vulcan."

"Yes, sir."

Tucker thought for a moment, running his fingers through his hair slowly.

"And you're sure no one else knows about this yet?" He asked.

"Yes, sir. Not yet. I was able to get hold of these individual items but almost all of them were already under examination. And there's the Dakota's database and the secured items I can't get to without throwing up a flag..."

"It's just a matter of time." Tucker said, slouching back in his seat, disgusted. "Then Starfleet's going to see this and…"

And then he'd be flagged. A Starfleet officer, Chief Engineer of a Starfleet vessel, who in fourteen out of seventeen realities is involved, usually married in one way or another, to a Vulcan national. 'Security risk' wouldn't even begin to cover it. If she really had been nothing more than a prostitute, then it would be established that he was merely a security risk. But actual romantic involvement? Marriage? That consistently? With an alien?

He knew exactly how Starfleet would react to that.

Hell, he'd kind of known this was coming hadn't he? From that very first encrypted 'love letter', he'd known.

Tucker spoke carefully.

"Hess. Listen. Don't interrupt. Alright?"

Hess nodded. But he could see she wanted to say something to comfort him. The situation was far beyond that, he knew.

"Okay. Assuming we get out of here in one piece, we'll be back to Earth with all this in about a month. By then Starfleet will already know. So, before we ship out again, I'll be taking a walk down the well. Probably some desk job somewhere, working on a project that will keep me comfortably out sight and mind. Then, when I come up for review a few months after that…"

Tucker shrugged. "So let's talk about making sure you get the Chief Engineer position when it opens up. Kelby's a fine engineer but he just isn't cut out for…"

"Sir." Hess argued. "All this information…it's says a lot more about you than…than that. You made Captain in five or six of these different realities, years ago. And you have a war record in a couple of others that's…"

"Hess. Please." Tucker said.

"Sir, this Vulcan woman's got her claws in Admiral Archer in some of these realities. Or 'Captain' Archer anyway. That's got to count for something."

"We both know how this will go over back home. Archer's…well, he's Archer. This will slide right off him. My career's done. So let's deal with it. I want you in charge of engineering when I'm gone, so let's focus on making that happen."

"But, sir…there has to be something we can do. We can't just give up!"

Tucker strummed his fingertips on the edge of his desk, mulling that over.

There was something he could do. He'd been considering it for a couple of days now, though not at all seriously. Now, though…well, there wasn't really anything stopping him anymore, right?

Right?

"I…might have something in mind. But let me worry about that. Right now, let's get you prepared to challenge Kelby for my job when the time comes."


	16. Chapter 15

_**Seleya  
><strong>_**Private Freighter Vessel**

Hoshi just kind of stared at everyone. It was sort of like…well, like just getting in with a new group of friends and running head first into the fact that they're all into…oh, I don't know…devil worship or something. And they're all of a sudden just talking casually about sacrificing chickens in the graveyard later tonight. Because that's no big deal and the sort of thing they do all the time…

What do you mean sacrificing chickens to the devil in a graveyard at midnight is weird? That's not weird. _You're _weird.

I mean, it was just…it was _weird_.

"Okay." She said. "Really? No one else thinks this is a little…improbable?"

Everyone looked at her then. T'Pol dispassionately, Malcolm with a mixture of mild surprise and confusion, Travis a little amused and bright.

This Tucker guy was just looking at her like she'd suddenly started blowing snot bubbles.

That's not weird. _You're _weird.

"Dimensional rifts that drive people crazy?" She insisted, though she faltered a bit now. "And…some kind of database from the future?"

No one immediately agreed that she wasn't the weird one here and that, yes, indeed, it was all rather dubious. So she crossed her arms defensively and just stood there. Being weird.

Travis shrugged. "I don't know. Malcolm was Starfleet before the war and he's got a lot of stories like that. I guess it is…hard to believe, some of it…but…"

"I served on an exploratory vessel, like Commander Tucker here." Malcolm said. "The improbable was rather standard fare, I'm afraid."

Hoshi was surprised…and tentatively relieved, to see T'Pol raise a doubting eyebrow at that.

"I have heard you speak of your service in Starfleet." She said to him then. "And many of the encounters you relate do tend toward the highly unusual. But you are suggesting Commander Tucker's story is believable?"

"Hey. Wait a minute." Tucker frowned. "Why the hell would I make this up?"

"That is not my suggestion, necessarily." T'Pol assured him. "As an example, it is entirely possible you believe the events you relate truly occurred while, in fact, they did not. The question at hand would be the reliability of the information you relate, not necessarily your honesty in relaying it."

Trip stared at her for a moment. Before inexplicably stifling an sudden laugh.

"God, you sound just like her…" He muttered, shaking his head.

Malcolm plowed ahead, ignoring all that.

"The fact is, coming from a Starfleet officer of long range exploratory vessel…" He said. "Well, this doesn't really strike me as unbelievable, so much. I've seen people arrive on a transporter pad ten minutes before they were beamed over from the other end. No explanation for it. For that matter, I watched an entire planet cycle through the same seven hour period over and over again for three days while we recorded the thing from orbit. Not to mention the Varishians. There's simply no other explanation for the things they could do other than the ability to hop between parallel dimensions. The Empire certainly took them seriously. Wiped them all out in short order, if you recall."

"I think the important point here is the if this database does exist…" Travis said, grinning widely. "Then it's worth a _fortune_!"

Tucker frowned again. "It's priceless. 'Fortune' doesn't begin to cover it. But that's the problem…"

Malcolm jumped ahead. "Any government getting their hands on that is practically assured dominance for the next few centuries at least. And not only over known space but for who can say how far beyond."

Tucker just nodded grimly.

"Then I must disagree with Travis." T'Pol said. "The point we are missing is that the database represents a potential short term profit with a near certain long term and extremely significant loss."

"Wait. I don't understand. What loss? What do you mean?" Hoshi said.

"Yeah, T'Pol's right." Travis admitted. "We could practically name our price for the thing, assuming we could find a buyer. But whoever we sold it to would be the new empire pretty soon after that. So who do we want to sell control of the galaxy to?"

"Hold on a second." Tucker said. "I'm not sure I want anyone but Humans getting their hands on it. It's a question of _which _Humans…"

"Bloody hell." Malcolm said, incredulously. "You must be joking."

Tucker started. "What the hell's that supposed to mean? Who else is gonna use…?"

"I'm sorry, Commander. Have you not been paying attention for the last few decades? You want to hand the modern equivalent of the hydrogen bomb over to the Human Empire?"

"Well, I sure as hell don't want to hand it over to anyone else!" Trip snapped back. "And it doesn't have to be the Empire! There are plenty of Humans who aren't part of that!"

"Wait!" Hoshi said. "Isn't this a _good _thing? This technology could…"

"Neither are the Klingons! Let's just hand it over to _them_, then!"

"Well, if we can't sell it then what use is it to us anyway?" Travis demanded.

"You're comparing Humanity to the damned _Klingons_?"

"No, wait. Technology that advanced would have a huge impact…"

"Who the hell is running arse out across the universe at the moment, you twit?"

"Hold on, are we still talking about selling it or just _giving _it away?"

"That is enough." T'Pol said firmly.

Hoshi was surprised.

Because everyone just shut up. Just like that.

"We will approach this issue logically." She said. "Assessing each issue impartially, individually and in sequence. First, I will describe our goal."

A few different reactions to that played out around the room, Hoshi observed. But none of them communicated beyond simple body language.

Everyone shut up. Everyone listened to the captain.

Hoshi found herself fascinated at exactly why. She hadn't shouted. Or threatened. Or in any other way attempted to dominate. She'd simply issued a command and everyone had instantly acknowledged her lead.

Well, Travis and Malcolm anyway. Tucker just looked a little stunned.

"I am concerned neither with wealth or politics." T'Pol said. "Freedom is my concern. And survival. That is all. For this purpose I command this ship and lead this crew. This, then, is our goal."

It was quiet for a moment.

"T'Pol…let's say the Andorians end up with this technology. And they push the Human Empire back to earth…you don't think they'll just take their place?" Tucker suggested. "What would the universe be like under the Andorian Empire? What then?"

"You ask how I would maintain the survival and the freedom of this ship and her crew in such an environment?"

"Yes." Tucker shrugged. "I think it _matters _who…"

"Then you have joined my crew and share my goals." T'Pol said. "Now we may discuss this from a common perspective."

Tucker frowned. "From _your _perspective, you mean."

"Of course. I am the captain."

"Well, wait a minute." He said. "Maybe I don't want to be part of your crew then. And, wait a damned minute! I thought I was your client. _I'm _supposed to be calling the shots around here."

"Certainly not. This is my crew and my ship, not yours. You have employed us to secure the database, in exchange for a share in the profit it produces."

"Which means we have to agree on how we turn it into a profit in the first place." Trip pointed out.

"Naturally." T'Pol said. "But that is not relevant to my crew. That decision lies between myself and the client. The crew need only follow."

"Alright, so follow you where?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "If you are not a part of my crew, then that is not your concern."

"Wha…how the…that doesn't make any sense!"

"Commander Tucker." T'Pol said. "You are clearly having difficulty understanding the situation. If you wish to join my crew then you may do so. Stay and contribute the discussion, being prepared to follow my direction when the discussion is over. If you intend to remain my client, then leave the room and await our discussion at a later time."

Tucker stared.

"The door is there." T'Pol said, pointing to the side. "The common room at the end of the hall offers a wide variety of entertainments to occupy you. I will join you in approximately one hour."

Trip didn't know what to make of that. He was more than a little turned about, in point of fact.

So, after staring at her in confusion for a moment, he left the room. Despite feeling he'd made a bad decision. Itself despite not exactly being sure he'd made one in the first place.

T'Pol waited until the door was shut. And for everyone in the room to adjust to Tucker's absence. Then folded her hands comfortably behind her.

"Malcolm." She said. "Recalling Tolaris' frequent goading regarding your loyalty to Starfleet and to humanity in general, understand that I am concerned that I might cause you offense. Nevertheless I must ask. Are you prepared to kill Commander Tucker?"

The question caught him slightly off guard. But being a fairly straightforward question with an obvious answer, he didn't hesitate noticeably.

"Yes, captain." He nodded.

"Very well." T'Pol acknowledged. "Concerning the dispensation of the database, I believe we have overlooked the obvious. It is a database. As such it contains a wide variety of data. It is reasonable to assume the technologies it contains need not be disseminated as a single unit. Essentially, I offer for discussion the option of selling individual component technologies across an equally wide market…"

"Captain." Malcolm interrupted. "I'm not entirely comfortable with Commander Tucker roaming about the ship."

Malcolm's tone was clipped and uncomfortable. But T'Pol understood.

"I will deal with Tucker." She assured. "You need not be concerned."

Malcolm hesitated…

"Will all respect, captain. I find myself concerned nevertheless."

T'Pol considered how best to address the issue with Malcolm. And Travis, and Hoshi. None of whom had failed to note the oddity of their erstwhile prisoner being essentially ejected from the room and given free reign of the ship.

But one could only push Humans around so much. They would follow well enough when led…but there were limits.

"Tucker believes he has a connection to me." She admitted. "I do not fully comprehend what connection he imagines but it is clear that it is of great importance to him. Greater, in fact, than the database or all the trouble he currently finds himself in."

"Captain…" Malcolm floundered. What in the world was she on about? "How did you come to that conclusion?"

Now it was T'Pol's turn to be hesitant.

"Because…I have sensed that connection myself, quite strongly and consistently." She said, wondering. "And what is of interest to me is how he could be aware of it and anticipate it before we met. As is obviously the case."

Turning her attention back to the crew, she could see that wasn't going over well.

"But that is irrelevant. What matters to you is that Tucker will not endanger myself, my ship or my crew so long as that connection remains."

"So why ask if I was prepared to kill him?"

T'Pol's eyebrow twitched. "Because what I perceive is illogical."

From the looks on the three faces before, she could see that hadn't translated well.

"I may be wrong." She clarified.


	17. Chapter 16

**Terra Nova Sector  
><strong>_**I.S.S. Gladius  
><strong>__**(8 days earlier)**_

Commander Tucker and Admiral Archer made their way through the blackened and twisted corridors of 'E' deck. Along their path emergency support beams and frantic, woefully small, repair teams forced them to duck and dodge almost continuously in their efforts to simply move ahead.

Most of those men weren't even engineers. Ensigns and lieutenants from security, operations and even a couple of stewards had been conscripted into the desperate effort to get the _Gladius _operational again. And soon.

"I honestly hate to even make a projection here, Admiral." Tucker said, ducking beneath another support beam. "Maybe…six hours we can have impulse again. Nothing near full speed, though. We've got this deck locked down but a lot of systems integral to propulsion are right here. And just about every bit of it took a hit."

Admiral Archer nodded impatiently. "I'm sure that's good work, Tucker. But what about warp? Getting out of this area of space is our first priority…"

"Well, that's another problem altogether, sir."

"You told me two days ago that you were hours away from having us warp capable again. I realize we've suffered a lot since then but I'm having a little trouble cutting you any more slack in that department, Commander."

"Sir, I can have us warp capable in five minutes." Tucker insisted. "In fact, I can have us ready to go to warp before you can get back the bridge. But it won't do us any good."

"And why is that?"

"Sir, that's the other bit of bad news I wanted to discuss with you. Part of our examination of the debris out here has been focused on determining what kind of threat whoever these aliens were that set this trap. What kind of threat they might represent to _us_, in _this _reality. Part of _that _was trying to figure out what exactly destroyed all these ships we're salvaging here. What kind of weapons were used against them. And from what we're seeing…we haven't been able to identify any combat related damage at all."

"So what destroyed…?" Archer began. "Wait a minute. You're suggesting some sort of natural phenomenon? Something to do with the interphasic rift itself?"

Tucker nodded. "I'm beginning to think so, sir. Kelby is looking into that right now and what he's turning up isn't looking good. You understand that 'interphasic rifts' and alternate realities…these just aren't things we're really qualified to work with…"

"We don't have a science team anymore, Tucker."

"No, sir. All we have left are a geologist and a biochemist. My people are more qualified than they are, I agree."

"So get to the point, Tucker."

"Well, it's a bit hard to explain…but it seems the longer we stay near the rift, the more our ship and everything in it tries to…_translate _over to whatever reality it's connected to. And that happens progressively faster the closer you are to the rift. So, if we were parked right on top of it we'd probably slide right through to this other reality almost instantly. That much we already knew. What we didn't realize is that closer we are to it, the more a part of that other reality we already are. In a _physical _sense. The translation is gradual, not instant."

"You're starting to lose me, Tucker." Archer said, shaking his head.

"Well, I'll put it this way. At this range, considering how long we've been parked here, we're already maybe 30% there and 70% here. At a molecular level. And so, if we were to go to warp…we'd be going to warp inside two different realities simultaneously. Now, when you consider the subtle differences inherent between any two realities like the ones we're dealing with…"

"You're suggesting we'd end up going to warp in two different _directions _at once?"

"Not exactly. It wouldn't be anything as dramatic as that. But even a slight difference makes _all _the difference when your at warp speed. You have to be pretty precise about where you are, where you're going and how fast you're going to get there. Throw things off just a billionth of a percentile…"

"And your ship goes to pieces all over space. Like what we see here."

"Exactly. And if Hess is right, that's the real set of teeth in this trap. A ship comes along and detects the interphasic rift, stops to investigate, the crew starts going crazy, so they just turn around and warp out…bang, their ship breaks apart. Or…worse…they aren't technologically sophisticated enough to detect the rift in the first place, get too close, the crew goes crazy and they all kill each other before they can get away. Then the ship drifts through space until the rift slowly translates it over to the other side."

"In either scenario, whether they detect the rift or not, if they actually get close enough to it…they slide right through to the reality on the other end and everyone dies from shock before they go even have a _chance _to go crazy. On top of all that, if you _do _go to warp and break up…the nature of the rift is such that all those bits and pieces slingshot right back into the rift and the ship disappears from this reality completely. Not so much as a scrap left on this side."

"Okay. So let's cut to the chase. We need to get out of this area of space on impulse, not warp, and we need to do it quickly, is that right Commander?"

"Yes, sir. Even at top speed we should be fine. Maybe some minor structural damage but nothing we can't handle. All at the molecular level, wouldn't even be noticed until we docked for maintenance. Now, I can't promise you full speed but I _can _get us out of here in…say, two hours. On top of the six hours I need to get impulse up and running again."

"Tucker…eight hours, that's…we're already running on a skeleton crew and eight hours will cost us at least four or five more crewmen at the rate we're losing them."

Tucker grimaced. "What are we down to now, sir?"

"Not much more than what you have here. We assigned everyone we could to you. Myself, one steward, two security, one operations and the doctor. That's who's running the ship at present. You have everyone else working down here."

"What about the captain?"

Archer looked over at Tucker, a little surprised.

"You didn't know?"

"Know what? What happened?"

Archer frowned. "Sorry, Tucker. You should have been told. I guess…never mind, doesn't matter. He's off duty. Started feeling the symptoms a couple of hours ago. Distorted vision, hand tremors, feelings of pressure…the doctor has him sedated in his quarters already."

Tucker ran his fingers through his hair, fretfully.

"Admiral…we're in real trouble here." He said. "Eight hours is the best I can do. And that's just getting us out of range of this thing. I'm expecting we'll break down soon after we get clear. Most of the people I'm working with just aren't engineers. But at least then we can wait safely for the crew to recover and get things squared away."

Archer shook his head. "You have to admire the irony here. One of the most advanced ships in the fleet and we're this close to losing her because we can't move a measly fifty thousand miles."

Tucker snorted. "Well, hell, Admiral. I can do that easy. It'd just take a few centuries. But, sir…there is a contingency plan I think you should start considering."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Well, we've got your warp shuttle sitting in the shuttle bay. I can't imagine why anyone hasn't set it on fire yet, but they haven't."

"It's hardly an interstellar ship, Tucker…"

"Yes, sir. I know. But it can get clear of this rift on impulse in less than a day. By then it should be safe to go to warp and it can reach the old Antioch/Freeman trade route in a couple of hours. Hell, with any luck maybe the _Gladius _can catch up before…"

"Tucker, what do you expect me to do out there? Get help from the Orions? They run that whole strip. I'm sure they'd love to know about our situation. Starfleet isn't going to get here any quicker if I'm out there waiting to meet them…"

"No, sir. That's not what I meant. Honestly…I'm just thinking about getting that database _off _this ship. Before someone manages to blow up the _Gladius _and slingshot the debris through the rift. And that database with it. Above and beyond everything else, we have to get that thing to Starfleet. That's what all of this is for, isn't it?"

Archer considered that for a moment. "Well…I don't like the idea of abandoning ship, Commander. Especially if our only other ranking officer is the man we're relying on to get her up and running again. There's no reason someone else can't fly the shuttle out…but who can we trust with something like that?"

"Sir, there's quite a lot riding on getting that thing to Starfleet in one piece. I'm not sure I'd trust anyone but you, to be honest. The captain, sure, but he's not a consideration, is he?"

"Alright, what do you need to make this happen, Commander?"

"Not much, sir. Give Hess and me clearance for a shakedown run. Or at least a hands-on, full inspection. We'd want to be sure what effect the rift has had on your shuttle specifically. I wouldn't be comfortable sending you out in it alone otherwise."

"Alright, you've got it. Do what you need to do. Load the database on the shuttle, but keep it quiet. We'll leave this as a last resort for now. I'm not running off until I'm sure that's the only way to accomplish our mission, understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'll get right on it."


	18. Chapter 17

_**Seleya  
><strong>_**Private Freighter Vessel**

T'Pol stared at the human. She experienced some difficulty determining whether he was somehow attempting to 'con' her…or whether he was simply insane in some unusual manner.

On one hand he would have had to underestimate her quite drastically. She couldn't imagine that she'd given the impression so far that she were naïve enough to accept that any of this was remotely possible.

On the other…she supposed it was possible, however farfetched, for a human male locked within the rigid and brutal bigotry of the Human Empire, Starfleet especially, to develop such an outrageous fantasy. For that to devolve to the state of delusion then must also be as possible. However remarkable that might be, it did make sense.

However, he hadn't as yet exhibited any other telltale behaviors indicative of such a severely altered mental state.

"Commander Tucker." She said, carefully. "Are you aware that Vulcans are not Human?"

She raised one hand to forestall his immediate answer.

"Consider. I do not suggest that Vulcans are inferior or anything of the sort. I assume you would agree with that. I suggest that Vulcans differ fundamentally from Humans, to a degree that they cannot reasonably be considered Human. In any sense of the word, as you understand it."

Trip was quiet for a moment, before rubbing his forehead in frustration.

"T'Pol, sometimes I think I understand you just fine. Other times I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

T'Pol nodded. "I think this is because…"

"I mean, it took me a while to get used to how you talked in those letters. I could understand what you meant without any problem. Now, though, half the time…"

"Commander Tucker." T'Pol said. "I did not write those letters."

"Well…yeah. But the _other _T'Pols…I mean, they were just like you. Or almost, maybe…"

"I think that you have difficulty understanding me speaks to the fact. I was not the author of any such correspondence. Nor were those responsible for them identical persons to myself."

Again she raised a hand to cut him off when he attempted to speak. Typical of most Humans, he found impulse control challenging.

"Understand. The Vulcan women you speak of, if they exist, all had in common a long career dealing with and working alongside Humans. It stands to reason they would find it efficient to adopt a style of communication that Humans would comprehend easily. Rather than simply developing fluency in English, as I have."

"When I speak to my crew, in order to express complex ideas, they understand me because they have found it efficient to develop such an understanding. It is their responsibility to understand their Vulcan captain, rather than mine to communicate in a Human manner."

"A Vulcan woman working for a long period of time amidst a Human crew, with no other Vulcans with whom to interact, would of course develop a more Human style of speech, mannerisms and perhaps even behaviors. It would be logical to do so."

"Or.." T'Pol continued. "Were the Vulcan the product of a Human's imagination, especially one who had little interaction or understanding of Vulcans, one would likewise expect that they would be attributed a more Human style of speech and behavior."

Trip snorted. "So I'm either lying or crazy. Right?"

"These are the two most likely explanations for your sincerity."

"Well, I've got _copies _of all those letters. And the pictures and videos, and everything else. So what about that?"

"Very well. Produce them and, upon inspection, I will have the opportunity to confirm or deny your claim with evidence."

"I…no. With the database. I stashed them with it."

T'Pol nodded. "Of course."

Now Trip was starting to get offended.

"Look, lady. If you want to play that way, then fine. What about us? Are you going to pretend there isn't something between us? Maybe not a life long romantic relationship or anything, but there's _something _there. We were like old friends who'd known each other our whole lives, just an hour after we first met. What are the odds of that when…?"

"The nature of that attraction denies the validity of your claim, Commander Tucker."

"I…what? See, _that's _what I'm talking about. What is that supposed to mean?"

"There is of course an attraction between us. One that developed immediately. An affinity and perhaps an affection. I am not a Human woman and so recognize it would be illogical and irrational to deny it. But the attraction invalidates your claim. It is not sexual."

Trip sighed and closed his eyes, muttering to himself. _"Why did I bring it up?"_

"A sexual attraction between us is not biologically or psychologically possible, Commander Tucker." T'Pol said flatly. "At least not for me. And so the behavior you attribute to these other supposed T'Pols is likewise not possible. And even in rare cases where it could be, it would be nothing of the nature you describe."

"I didn't say you and I were sleeping together. Of course not. I think we would have noticed…" Trip seethed.

"That is not my suggestion. I am speaking of the attraction and the relationship we share. It is not sexual."

Trip's eyes were threatening to glaze over. This was getting ridiculous.

_Okay…so…wait a minute…_

"You're saying…you _like _me but you aren't _attracted _to me."

"No. I am attracted to you, as you are to me. But not sexually."

"That doesn't make any damned sense!"

"I am also attracted to Malcolm. And to Travis. I believe I am developing an attraction to Hoshi, though we have had little opportunity to relate to one another. However, I have no sexual desire for any of them. Or for you. Likewise, it is impossible for the vast majority of the T'Pols in these other universes to be attracted sexually to any other Tuckers. Or to anyone else. Because T'Pol, in all of these alternate existences, is Vulcan. She is not Human."

"And even in this universe, aboard this ship, the attractions I develop and have developed are the product of close quarters and limited socialization. I have no family nor any other Vulcans with whom to socialize. I have only three Humans available to me. Four, counting yourself. Consequently these attractions are largely inevitable, the product of a Vulcan psyche attempting to substitute for absent familial bonds."

"T'Pol." Trip said tightly. "Never mind. Just forget it."

Though he had already turned away, T'Pol continued speaking as he stalked toward the door.

"The more significant point I wish to establish, Commander Tucker, is that my affections are not blind. Again, I am Vulcan, not Human. Any attraction or affection I have for you would not render me incapable of discerning ill intent, if that _is _your intent. If you intend to seduce me, your failure is assured."

Trip had, of course, come to a full stop. Facing her, with his jaw fully unhinged.

T'Pol watch his mouth close slowly, roughly in time with the fury that was beginning to build in him. Admittedly, she had always found that fascinating to observe in Humans. And she so rarely had the opportunity to witness it.

"I was trying to _warn you_!" Trip exploded. "I thought _maybe _you might think it was a little _strange _that I never _heard _of you before now! Before I got near that damned interphasic rift! That I never heard of _any _of you! Except Malcolm, who I never met until now. Travis, Hoshi, Phlox? First I heard of them was in those letters just a week ago! I thought _maybe _it might be nice to point out how _weird _it is that as soon as I got _out _of there I'm stumbling _all over you people_! That's a little unusual, don't you think? Maybe a little suspicious? Like there's something going on here?"

"But, you know what? I don't care anymore! I just want to get the damned database, get what I can for it and get the hell out of your lives! Especially _yours_! How's that sound to you? Good? Great!"

T'Pol wasn't watching him anymore, though. She was staring at the wall, examining the implications of what had just occurred.

"Phlox was the Denobulan physician who performed the cybernetic implantation…" She mused.

"Yeah, I know!" Trip was already in the hall, having only barely overheard her as he stomped away.

But he reappeared in the doorway a few seconds later. By then she was able to focus on him again, having examined the situation fully.

He had at least calmed himself somewhat. Or perhaps had simply had his fury derailed, having come to the same realization she had.

"You, uh…you never told me the doctor's name, did you?"

"I did not."

"I…well, I didn't really know…I mean, I just assumed…"

"Where did you learn that name?"

"Uh…He's in almost all of them. Usually a doctor and usually involved in your…uh…I mean, your physician. And our…friend, I think. Usually."

T'Pol surprised herself by hesitating, before asking the question that tempted her to such dread.

"Involved in my what?"

"Huh?"

"The Denobulan doctor, Phlox. You said he was involved in something you attribute to me. But you avoided specificity. What, of mine, was the doctor involved in?"

Oh. That.

Trip took a deep breath. "Your…pregnancy. Or, pregnancies, I guess. We had at least a couple of kids in most of these…well, in most of them. I think we had five in one of them."

T'Pol's eyebrow leapt.

"Were we bonded?"

"_Bonded? _What?"

"The term was not used?_ Ashaya, adun, adun'a, t'hy'la_…"

"Yeah. All the time. I figured it was something like bondmate, which I kinda figured out on my own. Not exactly _'bonded'_…"

T'Pol was already lost in the implications. Again staring into space as she busily put the pieces together.

"She was bonded. To a human male. And bore his children. _Guv-tvi-rivak _at _pon'farr_. _Guv-kanashivaya. Telsu…Katelau_."

The implications were quite profound. And answered the impossibility of these alternate T'Pol's supposed habit of mating out of season.

She had tried that once herself, truth be told.

Once.

It hadn't been terrible. Not something she had ever contemplated _repeating_, having satisfied that curiosity.

But these other T'Pol's had naturally adopted their mate's libido. Theirs being reflexive to their bondmate's, it had likely happened of it's own accord in each case. It would have been illogical to suppress it, so long as it remained manageable…

A mild _plak-tau_. Manageable and, for all intents and purposes, consistent.

She contemplated what that must have been like.

Until…

"Huh." T'Pol decided.


	19. Chapter 18

**Terra Nova Sector  
><strong>_**I.S.S. Gladius  
><strong>__**(7 days earlier)**_

Archer sat in the captain's chair on the bridge. There wasn't anything at all going on and no one else on duty there with him. As it was, he represented the entire bridge crew at the moment. As he had for the last two days.

There simply weren't any crewmen left who could be spared to tend the bridge stations. Everyone was either sedated and strapped to a bed somewhere, busy with emergency repairs they were never trained to conduct or…well, that just left the doctor and he was in sickbay. He didn't know how to operate any of these stations anyway.

Archer was running the whole show.

But since they were dead in space, 'the whole show' consisted of little more than sitting here waiting for someone to call him on the intercom, so he could make a decision for them.

And yet…still, he had to admit he missed the chair.

It's not like he didn't have another in his office back on earth. More comfortable than this one, to be honest. But, dammit, he was born and bred to command a starship. Even under conditions like these. Hell, _especially _under conditions like these.

He'd regretted the path he'd taken in accepting an administrative position more than once. But sitting here really drove that point home. What the hell had he been thinking? It's not as if he'd accomplished anything he'd set out to do. The policies of Starfleet and the Empire continued right along the same path they had for the last century. Total domination of the galaxy, no matter if that left the galaxy in a chaotic mess as a result.

He hadn't been able to slow that down in the slightest, much less pound any common sense at all into the thick skulls of the idiots back home.

If he'd stayed on the _Enterprise_, though…well, who could say? Maybe he could have made a difference there eventually. But even that had sort of fallen apart when he lost his Tactical Officer all those years ago. What a ridiculous mess _that _had been.

One thing's for sure, though. He'd have eventually run into Tucker if he'd stayed on as captain. And, Pike be damned, he'd have pulled a whole lot of strings to steal that man away for the _Enterprise_. He honestly had a hard time finding a reason to dress the man down for anything. Because he constantly managed to pull off the impossible down there in engineering.

He doubted Tucker would have gone and got himself pregnant by those freaky lizard people like Johnson had. And thank God Johnson died on the operating table when they tried to cut the damned thing out of him. If he'd had to go through with executing his Chief Engineer for sodomy with an alien, that would have been _three _summary executions under his belt. And the most embarrassing one at that.

Hell, really? The fact was he just plain _liked _Tucker.

Come to think of it…if Reed hadn't gone native during the Vulcan annex…and he'd managed to run into, and recruit, Tucker…that probably would have gone a hell of a long way toward establishing the _Enterprise _with the brass. No doubt she would have benefited pretty damned significantly from having _those _two right below him on the chain of command.

Maybe the _Enterprise _wouldn't have lost the flagship position to the _Columbia_.

Archer resolved then and there that, if Captain Pike didn't recover fully from his condition, he'd pull a few more strings and take command of the _Gladius _himself. Indefinitely.

She was no _Enterprise_, of course, but she was a damned fine ship in her own right. And the current condition of the crew presented the perfect opportunity to staff the vessel with officers of his choosing anyway. He could even think of a few that fit the bill perfectly. Like Commander Hernandez. She was a fine command officer that he'd enjoy having under him.

Archer smirked a bit at the double meaning there. Either would be good, both would be even better. And he was confident he could manage it.

In fact…there wasn't anything stopping him from slipping down to Pike's quarters right now and making sure he _didn't _recover, now was there?

Was there?

Why, heck no, Jonathan. Not a doggone thing…and, damn, you're a little cutthroat today too, aren't you, Jon? Yes indeedy-do-dah, you are…

"_Engineering to bridge."_

Kelby.

Dammit. Now what?

Having just suffered yet another dose of the doctor's little cocktail, Archer felt a little…off center. So it took a moment to make his way over to the communications console without tripping over himself.

Hell, at least he wasn't going crazy or anything.

"Archer, go ahead."

"_Sir, we have impulse propulsion. Ready to go on your order."_

Archer furrowed his brow. Then rubbed his eyes a bit.

Then depressed the comm button.

"Say again, Kelby. I think the doctor may have been a little generous with that last shot. Didn't catch that."

"_Yes, sir. We have impulse on line and ready to go on your order. I can give you three-quarter right away. I'd estimate we can make full impulse in another half hour, sir."_

"Kelby…Tucker said _eight _hours. That was five hours ago."

"_Uh…sorry, sir. That can't be right. We're actually about an hour behind schedule. Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Hess haven't been available to help with the repairs."_

"I'm sure I understood the Commander correctly, Kelby. Where _is _Tucker right now?"

"_As far as I know, sir, he's still inspecting your shuttle."_

"How long has he been doing _that_?"

"_Uh…about two hours now, sir. I expected he'd be finished by now."_

"Well, he was supposed to be taking it for a shakedown run as part of that. Let's make sure he's still on board before we…"

Archer stopped.

Something about what he just said set off a warning bell in his head. What, exactly, he couldn't quite focus enough to figure out.

"_Uh…say again, sir?"_

"Kelby…standby."

"_Yes, sir."_

Archer tapped the communications console again.

"_Shuttle bay."_

"Rodriguez, is Tucker down there?"

"_Not exactly, sir. He just cleared the bay."_

"Docking?"

"_No, sir. We're shaking down your shuttle at the moment. Making a pass around the saucer while Tucker and Hess run internal diagnostics. In fact…he's signaling ready now. Port side, beginning his run. We should be done in about fifteen minutes, sir."_

"Well, let him know that won't be necessary anymore. We have propulsion back online."

Archer took a moment to grit his teeth and fume just a bit. He was really feeling frustrated at how things weren't getting done quickly enough.

"Dammit, Rodriguez, never mind. Just patch me through to him."

"_Yes, sir…one moment, sir."_

Archer waited. Gritting his teeth.

"_Tucker here, go ahead, Admiral."_

"Commander, you want to explain to me why you're wasting time with the shuttle when you expected repairs to be complete _an hour ago_?"

"_Kelby's done already, sir?"_

"An hour behind schedule, according to him. What was the point of…?"

The point suddenly occurred to Archer.

Of course…that wasn't possible, was it?

"Commander Tucker…what exactly are you doing with my shuttle?"

Silence.

"Commander Tucker!"

Nothing…

"_Uh, sir? Rodriguez. I think we lost communications with the shut…What?…Hess? What are you doing here?"_

"Rodriguez, what is it?" Archer demanded.

He had a dreadful suspicion already, though.

"_Uh, sir. Hess isn't on board. She just walked into…wha…hey!"_

"_Sir, this is Hess! Do we have impulse?"_

"Lieutenant Hess, what the hell is going on down there?"

"_Tucker's stealing the shuttle and taking the database! Do we have impulse?"_

Archer stared at the comm.

It was pretty much what he'd begun to suspect…but that didn't stop the complete impossibility of the situation from shocking him senseless.

"_Sir! Do we have impulse? He's going to…no…dammit! He's gone to warp!"_

Archer snapped into focus long enough to slam one fist down on the comm.

"He told me we couldn't _go _to warp near the rift!"

"_Sir? What…why would he say that?"_

"So I'd sit here like an idiot while he stole my goddamned shuttle, you dumb bitch!"

"_I…sir?"_

"Get Rodriguez up here _right now_! I'm going to have his warp trajectory plotted six seconds after he gets here! And you better have us ready to go to warp two seconds after that, Hess! _Do you understand me?"_

"_Sir! I…yes, sir!"_

Archer slammed his fist down on the comm button again. The situation absolutely warranted it.

If that dumb bitch didn't have them at warp before he finished issuing the order, he'd have her set on fire in the shuttle bay as an example.

God dammit! He was so furious his hands were trembling. And if this headache didn't ease up, he was going to be forced to choke the life out of the next person that looked at him sideways…

…and there was something very wrong with that.

There was something…very wrong with _him_.

Archer stared at his hands for a moment. They were trembling, yes. And he was furious, certainly.

But he didn't make a habit of calling his subordinates 'dumb bitches'. Or entertaining fantasies of choking people to death. Or setting them on fire.

Not _seriously_, anyway.

Well, now. This was a problem.

But then again…maybe being good and angry was just what was needed right now. This was a serious situation. Lives were on the line. If he had to kill a few people…break some bones, spill some blood…yes, maybe even set someone on fire…if it got the idiots around here moving in the right direction, then it would be warranted.

There was no time left! He had to get out of this place _now_!

_Damned _if he was going to hang around here until it turned him into some kind of homicidal maniac. What the hell was the matter with everyone around here? Why didn't they understand the situation they were in?

When the door cycled and Rodriguez stepped onto the bridge, there already wasn't any point in thinking about it or mulling it over. He worked the shuttle bay and was an easy scapegoat for Trip's escape. He made for the perfect example.

And, damn, Jonathan really just wanted to murder someone right then. Especially if they would scream and look stupid in the process. He was pretty sure Rodriguez would.

He didn't remember he wasn't armed until he snarled and slapped at his side. That and the momentary confused stare at the spot on this hip where his phase pistol would otherwise be…that all offered Hess just enough time to realize Archer had gone on a happy little vacation. And, thankfully, had forgotten to bring his phase pistol.


	20. Chapter 19

_**Seleya  
><strong>_**Private Freighter Vessel  
><strong>**Cor Caroli System**

T'Pol traced the stylus across the tabletop screen, describing a final room to the layout.

"The antechamber, to the right of the common lounge, leads here." She said. "This is Shodar's office, where we will most likely meet with him. As you can see, this represents a relatively short distance from the lounge."

"That's still two bars, three portals and a large crowd or two between the elevator and that office." Malcolm said. "Probably an orgy thrown about somewhere as well, judging from our last bit of business there."

"The common lounge will be our rendezvous point. The crowd there will provide both cover and a hindrance to rapid retreat, but no more or less than to anyone pursuing us. Communal sex acts notwithstanding."

"I still doubt they found the database." Tucker said, glancing over the layout. "They would have had to dismantle the whole shuttle before they found it."

"You can be sure they did exactly that, Commander." Malcolm smirked.

"They would not suffer a Starfleet vessel to remain docked in plain view without the attending Starfleet personnel in free evidence aboard the station." T'Pol said. "It would rapidly become clear that Starfleet officers had fallen victim to foul play there. Nor would they allow the profit from salvaging the vessel to go unclaimed for very long. We can safely assume the database has been discovered and claimed."

"Even if they did, how can you be sure it's there? This Shodar guy could have stashed it somewhere else. Or made copies. Or sold it already."

"He is Orion." T'Pol explained. "Logically, given nearly a week to salvage your shuttle, discover the database, have it hacked and assess the contents, he has by now fully realized it's gravity and worth. He will keep it near him, until he is able to secure mercenaries capable of protecting the station and overseeing the projected sale. Most likely he has not yet begun making overtures to prospective clients, fearing the inability to broker from a dominant position."

"Okay, I don't mean to argue but even if all that's true, I'm telling you there's no way he cracked the database that quickly. It was hard for us and we had matching Starfleet decryptors. Or near enough. It still took _us _three days to crack it. He can't know exactly what's he got yet."

"We must make liberal assumptions, erring on the side of caution."

"Your pardon, captain, but this all sounds rather 'iffy'". Malcolm said.

"Our information is limited."

"Then it would best to gather intel before we attempt this sort of operation, don't you think?"

"As time passes, we can expect the situation to become progressively more challenging. Whatever benefit might be gained from more accurate intelligence would undoubtedly be lost to circumstances that we can expect to arise in the meantime."

"Like Starfleet showing up." Trip noted.

"Indeed. Another assumption I have adopted is that they can be expected to intervene soon. Their presence at the station when we arrive being not entirely out of the question."

"In which case…?" Malcolm asked.

"We flee."

* * *

><p>"Okay, what else?" Hoshi asked, lightly slapping two light diburnium-reinforced vests onto the small pile Travis already carried.<p>

"That box there? The greenish one?" Travis said, nodding in that direction. "Two of the plain ones and two with the bluish stripe at the bottom."

"Right." She said, digging into the box in question. "Um…what are these? Are these grenades?"

"Yeah, Malcolm doesn't go anywhere without them." Travis chuckled.

"Does…he ever _use _them?" Hoshi asked nervously.

"Sometimes." Travis said, distracted with his search for the last item on his list. "Ah, there we go. See the gas mask behind that empty tank? See if you can wiggle two of the orange filters out of it."

"Travis…what happens if…? I mean, what if they don't come back? This is starting to sound pretty dangerous."

"Oh, don't worry." Travis smiled. "They always come back. The captain knows what she's doing, it'll be okay."

Hoshi fiddled nervously with the gas mask. "I know, but…what if they don't?"

"Well…I guess that's why it's good to be bridge crew."

"You mean, we just run away?"

Travis grinned. "It won't come to that. Don't worry."

* * *

><p>Trip snapped the cover back on to the bracelet. "That should do it. As long as he's wearing it, then you hit the button on your remote and he'll drop like a rock. The discharge provides ignition for Malcolm's thing and that gives you your distraction. Assuming it works."<p>

"How confident are you in the device?"

"I haven't even tested it. And I can't figure how to do what before he gets up here."

"Malcolm. The explosive?"

"I was careful. It'll _hurt_, of course…but if Tucker's little zapper works correctly then he won't feel it. Shouldn't cause any serious injury."

"How long will he be incapacitated?" T'Pol asked. "If the situation warrants the use of this device, it would be preferable for Travis to be at least partially mobile again as soon as possible…"

The door opened, letting Hoshi into the room. Travis entered immediately behind, a small pile of gear in his arms, making for the table to dump it there.

Malcolm was already waiting, reaching to secure the grenades before Travis could even put them down.

"Travis." T'Pol said. "You and Hoshi will be required on this operation."

"You mean on the station?" Travis asked, surprised.

"Yes. You will accompany me." T'Pol said. "Your role will be to…"

"Who, _me_? You're not taking Malcolm?"

"Malcolm and Tucker will remain on the ship, prepared to intervene and support should it become necessary. You will be armed and armored, appearing to the Orions to serve as my bodyguard or 'gunman'. Being male, athletic and attractive, the Orion women in attendance will be inclined to focus their attentions on you…"

"Whoa, hold on…" Travis laughed nervously. "I…captain, I'm just a pilot. I don't know how to…_bodyguard _people…"

"That will not be required. You need only appear to serve that role. Hoshi, being shorter and generally more reserved in nature, will largely be dismissed as a threat and assumed to serve in an advisory capacity. She will provide support with any violence that may occur in the course of…"

"_Me?" _Hoshi exclaimed. "Captain…I can't fight! I haven't picked up a phase pistol since the Academy!"

"Did you fire the phase pistol at the Academy?"

"Well, sure…"

"Then you are familiar with it's use."

Travis and Hoshi were both staring in shock. So T'Pol took the opportunity to speak again.

"Please pay attention. The manipulative abilities of Orien females are well known. According to the intelligence that Tucker and Malcolm both confirm, this is primarily based upon naturally produced pheromones and affects males almost exclusively. Therefore, having either Malcolm or Tucker in attendance would represent an unacceptable risk. Either could, potentially, be coerced despite themselves into opposing us, or at the least hindering our progress."

"Therefore, Hoshi, _you _must participate in the operation, as you and I can expect only a mild headache and a slight alteration in temperament from even a significant exposure…"

"Well, what about me?" Travis exclaimed. "I've been around Orion women before! Trust me, captain, I'm not going to be much good to you in there if two or three of them come after me!"

"Nothing will be required of you but to present that opportunity." T'Pol explained. "Should the Orions feel it necessary to subvert a member of my crew, you will provide the logical target for such an assault, leaving Hoshi and I to act freely. And allowing Malcolm and Tucker to remain available to provide reinforcement."

"But…but…!" Travis stammered.

"Look, it's not that bad." Tucker assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You'll have this."

He held up the plain steel bracelet for examination.

"This will pulse a very mild electrical charge through you. You wear it on your wrist and it'll make you practically immune."

Travis eyed the device dubiously. "Are you sure? What is it? How does it work?"

Tucker shrugged. "Can't say for sure, honestly. It's just a copy of the ones we're issued in Starfleet, when we have to deal with Orions. Stimulates some kind of gland or something. I don't know. But it works pretty well."

Travis frowned. "I never heard of it…"

"I'm afraid that was after my time." Malcolm said, smirking. "We had to rely on cold showers when _we _had to deal with them. But it _does _work, from what I've been told."

Travis still wasn't looking happy. But he wasn't coming up with anything that he felt might change the captain's mind either.

Hoshi was practically beside herself.

"And if it doesn't?" She demanded. "Am I going to have to shoot _Travis_?"

"That will not be necessary." T'Pol assured. "At worst, should Travis fall victim to Orion manipulation, he is unlikely to react with violence. With anything less than several hours of exposure to the attentions of multiple females, he is will likely offer little more than verbal disagreement and insubordination. In that case, it will serve our interests for one of our own to appear rebellious and unruly, as their attention will be focused upon utilizing him to their advantage."

"Well, why can't one of these guys do it then?" Travis argued.

"They are significantly more aggressive than you. They may well react violently if subverted and confronted by non-humans. And should violence erupt, I require both of them in full possession of their faculties."

"Hey, I'm not all that aggressive." Trip argued. "You make us sound like some kind of…"

"Starfleet officers." T'Pol said.

Trip was glaring now. "Okay, what's _that _supposed to mean?"

"Just drop it, Tucker." Malcolm advised, quietly.

"Indeed. Argument over the particulars is not productive at this time. These are my orders. You will follow them. Travis and Hoshi will accompany me as I arrange for and attend a meeting with Shodar. Travis will act as a target should the Orions attempt subversion. Hoshi will provide conflict support. I will verify that the database is present aboard the station, presumably in his office, and secure it. Malcolm and Tucker will remain aboard the ship, ready to intervene when it becomes necessary. Once the database is in my possession, we will retreat, rendezvous in the common lounge, fall back to the dock and abandon the station. Understood?"

Heads nodded around the room, though reluctantly in a couple of cases.

"Very well. Distribute the gear. We arrive at the station within the hour. I expect you to have completed your preparations by that time. Dismissed."

Travis and Hoshi left.

Malcolm and Tucker did not.

They were both obviously waiting for the other to leave them alone with her. And now eyeing each other with some discomfort that this hadn't occurred.

She wondered for a fleeting moment if there were some kind of conflict brewing between the two of them. Concerning her attentions.

That would be extremely disagreeable. She hadn't yet decided whether to mate with Tucker. That violence might erupt between potential suitors had not at all occurred to her. Had she missed some Human signal of Malcolm's intentions? She was only vaguely familiar with what that could entail exactly…but she didn't think she would have missed it.

Already she was beginning to recall how difficult mating was. So many intricacies and variables to be mindful of. Most of the time it hardly seemed worth all the trouble…

Of course, after _koon-ut-kalifee_…and after the first _pon'farr_…after all the disruption…then she supposed it should probably be worthwhile. That would, she assumed, be a time of contentment. Then, of course, there would be a child. Each _pon'farr _would see to that.

Perhaps two. Her aunt had born twins twice in a row. It was entirely possible that this rare genetic trait had passed down to her…that would be fortunate…

"Captain?"

Malcolm had been attempted to engage her. And she had been entirely unaware of it.

This was already proving troublesome.

"Excuse me. I was not paying attention."

The slight hesitation on Malcolm's part made clear he'd recognized how unusual that was for her. But thankfully, he didn't make a point of it.

"I wanted to reiterate my objections. This just doesn't seem right, captain."

"Travis will play the part required of him in this operation. I would not have made this decision if I felt he was incapable."

"Captain, I think you're underestimating how he will react…"

"I'm sure he will find his treatment disagreeable, if it comes to that. And if it does not, then disagreeable that we were willing to abuse him in this fashion. I am also certain that he will not begrudge his treatment for very long. It is his nature to be forgiving."

"Regardless, that's not the sort of thing one should take for granted, captain."

"Duly noted. I have made my decision, Malcolm."

"Very well, captain." Malcolm responded.

And waited.

And glanced at Tucker. Twice.

"If you'll excuse me, captain."

She nodded.

When the Malcolm closed the door behind him, she folded her hands at her back and waited.

Tucker shifted uncomfortably.

"Is there something you wish to discuss, Commander Tucker?"

"Well, I don't know if everyone should be calling me Commander anymore but…yeah. I figured we should talk."

T'Pol waited, again.

"We never really finished talking before and I guess I'm not real clear about a few things."

"I understand. Perhaps I have not been as communicative as I should have been. Be advised then that I am considering mating with you and will inform you of my decision when I have reached it."

Tucker stared.

"Wha…what?"

T'Pol arched an eyebrow, considering his reaction.

"Excuse me. Did you not understand or was this not the issue you wished to discuss?"

"I…wait, you said…no, what are you talking about?"

She canted her head slightly. "Perhaps I am the one who has misunderstood. I assumed from our prior discussion that this was your interest. What was it you wished to clarify then?"

"No, wait…you said you couldn't mate with me. Now you're saying you're thinking about it."

"Mating, yes. Perhaps you are confusing this with sexual intercourse?"

"Well…yeah. What are _you _talking about?"

"Mating."

"But that's…! Okay, no. Wait. Are you talking about _marriage_?"

"No. Of course not. Vulcans do not marry."

"Then you're talking about sex."

"Certainly not."

Tucker stared.

"You know…I keep forgetting you're an alien, T'Pol."

"I am aware of this. However, if you were to develop your understanding of…"

"Wait. Please. I'm so confused right now that I can't think straight."

T'Pol waited.

"Okay. What does 'mating' mean to you?" He asked.

She considered.

"When two individuals come to a mutual agreement to attempt the development of a mating bond, they engage in a period of mating behavior. This is characterized by a long-term progression of intimacy and affection, for approximately one year. Less if the level of intimacy reaches a point where one or both can no longer continue to progress. At that time, if it has not already become obvious, a priest is appointed to declare that they are bonded, should that be the case. If not, then the two individuals would likely already have agreed to cease mating…"

"Okay, you're talking about _dating_."

"Dating? No. I am familiar with that concept. It is similar but not the same."

"Right. Okay. But you're thinking about dating me. Have I got that right? Or whatever Vulcans _call _dating."

"Mating, Mr. Tucker."

"Right, that."

T'Pol struggled for a moment. A one word answer to this question would be entirely inappropriate. It was a complex matter, requiring significant…

But he _was _Human.

"Yes." She said.

"Why?"

That should have been completely obvious, of course. She was surprised he had to ask.

"It is the logical thing to do."

Tucker stared.

One the one hand, he wondered what in the world all those other Tuckers were thinking when they decided to get involved with this woman. Or…whatever versions of her…or…well, yeah, whatever.

She was absolutely mind-boggling. He had never in his life been so utterly turned about. He couldn't figure out which was up half the time.

He should have been horrified that he was even _having _this conversation. With an _alien_. But he was so far removed from that level of objectivity that he couldn't even bring himself to care.

And, of course, on the other hand…

He was hopelessly hooked. Already. And he knew it. And didn't even really care about that either. He was going to figure this woman out if it killed him. And that was that. This was the rest of his life, right here. Figuring out what the hell this woman was thinking.

And he was amazingly okay with that. Kind of…looking forward to it…

"Excuse me, Mr. Tucker. We both have preparations to make. We will continue this discussion at a more appropriate time."

Tucker blinked.

"Uh…yeah. Right. I'll, uh…"

She was already ignoring him, though. So he just spent a few seconds figuring out where the door was and left.


	21. Chapter 20

**Terra Nova Sector  
><strong>_**I.S.S. Gladius  
><strong>__**(5 days earlier)**_

Hess entered the bridge, the box of console components she carried already forcing her to sweat and her back to ache. She strode past Archer, ignoring him, to drop the box haphazardly near the engineering station.

She barely registered the muffled babbling behind her and went to work quickly. In short order she had the main panel off and the station's innards, for all appearances, yanked about randomly in a tangled mess.

It wasn't that complicated a procedure, really. But like anything else it took time. She'd pretty much been at this all day.

But at least this was the last one. Once completed they'd be able to monitor and control all ship functions from engineering. This running around trying to do things from ten different points on the ship with only five crewman was just for the birds.

And it's not like they didn't have plenty of time. Kelby and Freeman would be another day at least getting the warp engine back online, after what that son of bitch Tucker had done to it.

Mistake. Shouldn't have thought of him.

Hess stopped working and stared off into space. Hard to focus. She was tired, dirty and vacillating wildly between depression and slow burning fury. When she wasn't just plain numb, anyway.

She rubbed her eyes. Then rubbed them again a bit more forcefully when whatever that was gunked up on her hands got in her eyes.

Damn him.

* * *

><p><em>Rubbing herself desperately against him, trying to pin him to the wall of the shuttle so he couldn't get away. <em>

"_Please. Trip, please." She'd begged. "Stay."_

"_God…Hess…Hess, stop…" He'd breathed._

_She'd tried to stop his mouth with hers…and she'd had him...he was hers…for a moment…_

_And, God, the thrill of that. When she just knew she had him. That he was going to be hers…_

_But he'd pushed her away. Weakly, yes. But still._

"_Hess." He'd gasped. "Dammit…don't do this to me."_

_And then she'd lost it. Screwed up. Blew it._

_She slammed her palm against the locker door behind him. And started crying._

"_It's her, isn't it? That Vulcan bitch!"_

"_Hess…"_

_She'd swung away, zipping her jumpsuit right back up, thank you very much. _

"_She not real, you know." She'd snapped. "And I'm not letting you do this, you son of a bitch."_

_That's when he'd starting getting a little angry._

"_Hess." He'd warned. "I'm sorry, but I'm leaving. You've always been a friend…"_

"_Friends." She'd snorted. "You wanted more than that before you found out about that Vulcan slut."_

_He'd sighed. _

"_No, Hess. I didn't."_

_And ouch. _

_So screw him._

"_Well." She announced, hands on her hips. "You're not going anywhere. Not with that database."_

_And she'd marched right over to it._

_That's when it got ugly._

* * *

><p>Hess rubbed her eyes again, on her sleeve this time. Not that it helped much, since there wasn't an inch of her body <em>or <em>her uniform that had enjoyed a good wash in the last three days.

That son of a bitch. He was going to pay.

More muffled demands behind her.

"Shut up." She muttered, jamming the last port interface back into position. She reached down and grabbed the panel, tossing it casually back on top, not bothering to refasten it. She wouldn't have cared if it had slid off and fallen back to the floor, really.

She did spare Archer a glance as she passed by. And found it funny that his arm looked like it was getting infected.

Well, whatever. His problem. Shouldn't have come at her screaming like that. Not when she had a flux coupler in her hand.

* * *

><p>"What have we got?" She demanded, walking briskly into engineering.<p>

"I think it's working." Rodriguez said. "I haven't tried everything and I'm not a pilot but…I guess."

"Fine. Get the rest of them in here. No one leaves Engineering from here out."

Rodriguez left quickly. They shouldn't be roaming around. There was work to do.

The steward, Jenson, arrived first.

"Is the captain okay?" He asked, desperately.

"He's fine." Hess snapped. "Now get Connors and go get those converter assemblies installed like Kelby showed you."

"The doctor said he should have recovered by now…"

"_Get to work!"_

The rest of them were trickling in now, of course.

"The captain's still crazy?" Connors asked.

Hess ignored him, turning to get to work pulling panels along the warp engine housing.

"Go help Jenson." Rodriguez ordered, passing by him to kneel next to Hess.

Connors left. With some reluctance. When he was gone, Rodriguez worked up the nerve to ask.

"Is Archer still out of it?"

Hess ignored him.

"I think…I'm pretty sure some of the others might be coming out of it…"

"Shut up."

Rodriguez wasn't sure how to deal with this situation, really. But…if they were coming out of it, getting their heads together…they could really use the help. And they really shouldn't be leaving all those people tied up all over the ship…

"Lieutenant…I just think, maybe.."

"_I'm busy!" _Hess screamed, tossing a panel aside. It rang loudly as it bounce across the floor, impacting the far wall.

"You have work to do. Go do it." She said.

Calmly, as if she hadn't screamed maniacally only a second before.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hess, don't. Think about what you're doing."<em>

"_I'm stopping a deserter from stealing a shuttle!"_

"_You're not going to shoot me, Hess."_

"_Try me."_

"_Is this about Starfleet or about me? The database or me leaving __you__, Hess?"_

"_It doesn't matter. You're not going anywhere."_

"_This is crazy."_

"_I'm not crazy! You're the one running off to try to find some stupid Vulcan whore! Who probably doesn't even exist! How are you going to find her, huh?"_

"_This isn't about her! This is about the database!"_

"_You're lying! I know what you're doing. Don't move!"_

"_Dammit, Lieutenant. You're not going to shoot me. And I don't have time for this. I'm leaving, right now."_

"_I said don't move!"_

* * *

><p>"Lieutenant?"<p>

Hess startled. Then snapped.

"_What? _What _is _it?"

"Uh…we've got impulse up again. Warp's still no go…"

"Get us moving, top speed. I want us at Cor Caroli as soon as possible."

"Ma'am…we've been talking and…"

"Don't care. Get to work."

"It's about the rest of the crew…"

"_I said get back to work!" _

* * *

><p><em>He had her arm hopelessly pinned. But it didn't matter. She was suddenly too tired to fight anymore anyway.<em>

_And her nose was bleeding. Which was humiliating._

_So she just cried._

"_Dammit, Hess." Holding her down that way, his face was right against her neck. And of course it still sounded…and felt…and smelled…wonderful. The son of bitch._

"_I'm sorry. But you're not leaving me any choice here…"_

"_How can you do this?" She'd demanded, still sobbing. "Throw everything away. For some slut you've only read about?"_

"_This isn't about that." He'd said. "It's all over for me anyway. At least with this database I can disappear. Find…something…some place…"_

"_God, Trip!" She'd huffed. He was full of crap. Who was he trying to fool?"_

"_I'm leaving. And I can't let you stop me." He'd said. "I'm sorry." _

_With a shocking amount of regret and grief._

_Which finally caused her to realize what he might mean by that._

_When he shoved himself off of her and away, taking to his feet again, she was still too shocked to even think of trying to get away. When he pointed the phase pistol at her, it was too late anyway._

"_Trip…" _

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Trip, no…wait…!"_

_And he'd shot her. Just like that._

_Stunned her, of course. But she hadn't known it was set to stun at the time. Which was just a horribly cruel joke to play on someone in that kind of situation._

_That son of bitch._

* * *

><p>Hess dropped the heavy bundle of cord off her shoulder next to Kelby, where he crouched beneath the matter injector assembly.<p>

"Deuterium hose. I patched it." She said, already moving beyond to her next goal.

"Lieutenant, wait!" Kelby said. But she was almost gone already. He had to run to catch up.

"Lieutenant!" He called. "Hess! Wait!"

She stopped just ahead, suddenly enough that he nearly ran over her.

"What?" She snapped, turning on him.

"I…look, it's the others…"

She turned away just as quickly, marching off again.

"Don't care."

"This is getting out of hand!" He yelled.

"Then shoot someone!"

"Lieutenant! We can't leave the rest of crew locked up! Restrained all over the…!"

And she was marching back. Closing in, like…well…menacingly enough that he took a step back.

He was sure she was coming to attack him.

"Kelby." She growled. "You get back in there and you explain to them what Commander Tucker stole."

She was halfway back to him. Closing in fast.

"And that every second we dick around here wasting time is more distance he gains on us!"

Closer. Almost close enough to...

"And you explain to them that if we _almost _catch him…"

She had her fist wrapped into the front of his uniform. Tightly wound. Pushing him back…

"…if we _just _miss him. By a minute or an hour…"

Shoving him into the wall. A lot more forcefully than a woman her size should ever have been able to…

"…then I'm going to remember every whining little delay I've had to put up with here…"

…yanking him up slightly and quickly back into the wall _again_…almost knocking the breath out of him…

"…and I'm going to execute every one of you for insubordination. And you last, Kelby. So you have time to see it coming."

She was in his face. Snarling. Teeth bared, lips twisted in a grimace that was…almost inhuman…

"Do you understand me, Kelby?"

"Yes, lieutenant." He whispered.

She dropped him. Turned away and stormed down the corridor again.

Snarling over her shoulder. "Get to work."


	22. Chapter 21

_**Seleya  
><strong>_**Private Freighter Vessel  
><strong>_**Kohl'ashkar Station, Cor Caroli System**_

Tucker adjusted the left strap of the phaser rifle again. The weapon was well balanced and all, definitely well designed. He just wasn't used to having a longarm strapped across his chest like that.

"You _were _trained with the phaser rifle, weren't you Mr. Tucker?"

Trip spared Malcolm a quick frown. "Well, yeah. I'm just not used to _wearing _one. Feels like it's in the way. I want to either shoulder it or put it down."

Malcolm snorted. "Well, with any luck we won't have to shoulder them at all. Then we can stand about complaining about how uncomfortable they are."

"How likely _is _that?" Trip asked. "To be honest…I wasn't expecting to go into combat this week."

Malcolm shrugged. "Not to worry. Even if we have to deploy, we'll be up against station security. Orion 'bouncers' more or less. Hardly trained in live fire combat. You just concentrate on laying down phaser fire on anything that looks threatening. I'll pick off targets."

T'Pol surprised him when she suddenly appeared at the end of the cargo bay, leading Hoshi and Travis quickly across the room…

…and into the airlock. Without sparing either of them so much as a glance.

Hoshi at least stumbled a bit, expecting they'd stop and say something, but then had to hurry to catch up again.

As the airlock door sealed shut, Trip gestured in that direction. A universal, palm-up expression of 'what was that?'

Malcolm smiled. "If you were expecting a pep-talk, then you're forgetting who you're dealing with. She's Vulcan, mate. She's already given us a briefing. Stopping to go over it again wouldn't be very logical. Point of fact, I imagine she'd think that an insult. As if we weren't able to remember a half hour ago."

Trip shook his head.

"Never going to figure that one out."

And of course, he was a little disgruntled with himself for smiling when he said that.

But he noticed Malcolm was eyeing him speculatively. Time to look into that, he supposed.

"So, uh…what's the story with you and the captain?"

Malcolm nodded and took a breath. "Well…I've been with her for a few years now. Since the war, really. What you see here, I suppose. Although we haven't had this kind of action in a while. Rather hopping mad around here, in the last few days."

"So you two never…? I mean, you seem pretty…"

"Oh, no. Nothing of the sort." Malcolm shook his head. "I'm not quite so daft as to get involved with a Vulcan."

What? He assumed this guy must have at least suspected…

Oh.

Trip grinned wryly.

"That was at my expense, I guess."

Malcolm chuckled. "No offense, mate. But you do seem to be a bit in over your head."

Trip sighed. "Yeah, tell me about it."

* * *

><p>"So never?" Trip asked curiously. "Six years is a long time. I figure there'd be <em>something<em>."

"Other than her…well, her 'special time' a couple of years ago. And I'd hardly qualify that as any sort of romance."

"What 'special time'?"

"Well, you know. Her _time_."

Tucker shrugged a little, mystified.

"Bloody hell, man! You don't know anything about Vulcans, do you?"

* * *

><p>"So I walk into the kitchen the next morning and there's this Vulcan fellow sitting there eating noodles. Before I could decide whether to say a polite 'good morning' or tackle the man, T'Pol strolls in, grabs a bowl and starts eating right across the table from him. And here's the thing…she's filling her bowl from the same pot of noodles this fellow did. Not getting one of her own, you see."<p>

Trip shook his head. "What, that means something?"

"Look, mate. Vulcans don't _share _things. They get their _own _pot of noodles. And they bloody well cook those noodles themselves. If you were to so much as touch the pot, even by accident, even _after _they've got their noodles from that pot…well, they'll toss it right out and get another. Like it's _contaminated_."

"Huh." Trip opined.

"My first couple of years with T'Pol I just assumed she was germophobic or some such. And I suppose she _is _a stickler for personal hygiene. But I've come around to the fact that they just don't share things with other people. Emotions, food, personal space. And here she is sharing a pot of noodles with someone who wasn't around the day before."

"So…he was…what, a new boyfriend?"

"Nothing of the sort, it turned out. According to her he was a 'specialist' she'd taken on at the last port. Never went into details on the man's specialty, of course. He just hung about, eating meals with her, dodging off to her quarters now again for a while. It was more than a week before she let drop that he was there to…'treat a medical condition' she had. You see?"

Trip shook his head, not seeing at all.

"Look here. This seven year thing is something Vulcans have to work around. Now, what if you don't have a bondmate or what have you waiting around for you somewhere? On Vulcan they have entire institutions that deal exclusively with that sort of thing."

Malcolm tapped the crate he was leaning on.

"Out here? They have sods like this chap. They run about, making a living at it. And they can get rather expensive. I suppose the captain spared no expense. You wouldn't _believe _what she was paying this guy."

Trip was amazed. And amused.

"He was a gigolo!" He laughed. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Well, not precisely. But if the Vulcans have an equivalent, that would be it. I managed to catch on after a while. And I suppose I assumed that's what the two of them were up to when they disappeared off to her quarters now and then. But then, one day…"

Malcolm frowned.

"Look. You realize this isn't the sort of thing the captain would appreciate us talking about, right?"

Trip nodded vigorously.

Oh, yes. Certainly. Lips are sealed and everything.

"Right. So, one day she's in the common room, trying to turn on the vid. And I can see she's pushing the wrong panel. Which was rather odd, really. She wasn't even close. Wrong color panel and all. Then all of a sudden she hauls back and puts a fist through the screen. Plasteel everywhere, sparks flying. It was quite dramatic."

Malcolm waited a tick to let that sink in.

"Then, bells and whistles, here comes her specialist. Drags her off to her quarters. Didn't see them for four days. I figure _that's _when they started knocking boots, if they weren't before."

Trip nodded. Okay. Interesting story. Not sure what the point was, other than T'Pol _does _in fact get laid now and again. He had to admit he'd come to doubt it.

"Okay. Huh." Trip nodded.

Malcolm could see he thought that was the end of tale.

"No, look. I haven't got to the part you need to hear. When she finally does pop out again, we're sitting at the dock on Risa. Where we were supposed to drop this fellow off two days before. Things ran into overtime a bit, I suppose."

"I happened to be on hand then, and she looked a fright, let me tell you. Bruised up, bloody lip, scratches. And I would have jumped the fellow the moment he appeared if he hadn't looked even worse than she did. But he was out the airlock and gone in a twink. I'd have had to chase him down."

"So I go to the captain, to be sure the man hadn't...well, done anything I might need to shoot him over. He didn't exactly run out the door, but he certainly hadn't dawdled about either, you see. And, Tucker…"

Malcolm leaned in a little closer.

"She didn't know who I was talking about at first. Took her a minute to realize what I was asking."

"And then when she _did_…she did this Vulcan thing. You probably haven't seen it yet. She…_stared _at me, until the temperature in the room dropped a few degrees. And then she just turned and walked off."

"Which, in Vulcan, means, 'That's not open for discussion. Don't ever mention it again, you limey bastard, or I'll have your balls on a pike.'"

Trip considered that for a minute.

"So…not exactly a romance then?"

"I suspect not."

* * *

><p>"Wait. That was two years ago, right?"<p>

"Pardon?"

"T'Pol's 'special time'. That was two years ago?"

Malcolm nodded. "Near abouts."

"So I'm looking at five more years."

Malcolm stared for a moment.

"Mr. Tucker, if you're looking forward to it, then you weren't paying attention."

"Well, no…I mean, it didn't sound like _fun _or anything…but if that's the only time they…you know, _do _it…"

"With rare exception, yeah."

Trip frowned.

"Well, that can't be right."

* * *

><p>Malcolm struggled to follow the logic.<p>

"So…you're saying these other Tuckers and other T'Pol's where shagging _all the time_?"

"Well, I'm just judging from the letters but it sure as hell seemed like it."

"And when the captain found out about that, _that's_ when she decided to make you her beau?"

"I _think _so. Just from what she said, it seemed like…"

"Because maybe there's something about bonding up with a human that means you get to bump uglies something more than every seven years, you think?"

"Look, I don't know. I just know that after she realized I was telling the truth, all of a sudden she's saying she's thinking about…'mating'. Or dating. How Vulcans date."

Malcolm pondered. "Well, that's the problem. I've never gotten the impression from any Vulcan, the captain included, that sex was something they'd _want _to do more than every seven years. And if they did, why wouldn't they just do it? They must be capable."

"Maybe they aren't? That's pretty much what she said. Stands to reason, if there's an actual mating cycle involved…"

"No, no. I've seen Vulcans run off to shag a bit even if it weren't someone's 'special time'. Although…you hardly _ever _see that. In fact, come to think of it…"

Malcolm thought back a bit.

"We had a Vulcan couple on the ship a while back. Hired on for a bit, in lieu of pay for transport to Algus Prime. There were here for about five months, in the quarters right next door to me. I only heard anything out of them one time."

That got Trip's attention. "So…you _heard _them."

"Oh, bloody hell. Couldn't have missed it. I mean, they were _very _discreet about it. I probably would never have known what was about, but you know how it is. There's a point where you can't be discreet _and _shag at the same time. They got a bit excitable there toward the end."

"So then they _can_…you know…when it _isn't _their time."

Malcolm nodded. "That's my understanding. They just hardly ever do, and even then only if they're bonded. Don't have the drive for it, otherwise. At least, that's what I suppose. They just don't seem to appreciate a proper shagging."

* * *

><p>"So how would that be 'logical'"?<p>

"Those were her exact words, then? 'It's the logical thing to do'?"

Trip nodded.

Malcolm pondered.

Then shrugged. "I can't say. If she doesn't want to have _sex _with you, then I can't imagine why she'd want to _bond _with you."

"Well, she didn't say anything about _bonding_."

"She said 'mating'. And the logical result of mating is bonding."

Trip sighed, frowning. "That doesn't make any sense. If we were bonded, then she'd have to assume it would be like it was for every other Tucker and T'Pol that bonded."

"So like what exactly? Or, rather, what did you tell _her _about it?"

"We confirmed seventeen different realities from the debris we picked up. And in fourteen of them, we were married. Or, you know, bonded. In all fourteen of them there was a war, usually with the Romulans or Klingons, and in nine of _those _I got called up and she stayed home with the kids. So we wrote each other."

"The steamy sort, then."

"Not _just _that. They were real love letters. Like you'd expect two people in love would write each other. Some…you know, steamy stuff…but mostly just love letters."

"Lots of emotion and I miss you's and whatnot?"

Trip nodded.

Malcolm frowned. "Well, that's even worse. I can't imagine why she'd want any part of that kind of messy business."

Trip just shrugged.

* * *

><p>"Maybe it's…"<p>

"What?" Trip asked.

"Well, fourteen you said. Out of, what, seventeen? Maybe she just figures that must mean you're a good match? That's only three where you _didn't _bond."

"Well, even in those three we both resigned our commissions at the same time. There just wasn't a war or anything, so I didn't have any letters to go by."

"Well, that's got to be it then." Malcolm said confidently. "You're lab tested. The two of you bonded every time. It really _would _be illogical not to mate you up."

"Yeah, but how can she figure we're going to be a good match if we're going to be madly in love with each other and have sex all the time?"

Malcolm deflated. "Bollocks. You're right."

Trip frowned, searching furiously.

Dammit, there must be some obvious point he was missing somewhere.


	23. Chapter 22

**Cor Caroli System  
><strong>_**Kohl'ashkar Station**_

T'Pol led the way, down the short corridor leading to the elevators. The orange carpeting and lime-green walls immediately provoked the considerations of the two Humans with her. Most especially the decorative illustrations plastered here and there along the walls.

Hoshi laughed shortly, almost a giggle. "I guess this isn't the family-friendly part of the station."

Had she been inclined to discuss the matter, T'Pol would have pointed out that the Orions weren't especially diligent about protecting the sensibilities of their young. At least not to any degree your typical Human…or Vulcan for that matter…might consider in any way diligent.

And that, perhaps ironically, a large portion of the illustrations had clearly been copied from carved reliefs decorating some of the more notable and ancient monasteries on Vulcan. With the depicted participants being altered to appear Orion, of course. In most cases.

"Don't be surprised if we see some of this being reenacted in the lounge when we pass through." Travis said, frowning.

Hoshi glanced over at him, as much to be sure he was serious as to confirm he was as grim as he sounded.

"Well, I always heard that sort of thing. But are they really that bad?"

Travis shook his head. "It's more for show, I think. Orions always use sex to distract you. Or races like ours that are distracted by it. I guess you can't really blame them, it sure works."

"Oooh. I take it you got a little distracted yourself one time?"

Travis snorted. "Lost my whole paycheck when we came through here a month ago. Captain _told _me to stay in the lounge but I didn't listen."

Hoshi snickered.

"Hey, I'm a pretty good poker player when I don't have some Orion girl trying to take my pants off."

She laughed out loud then. "I guess that would be a little distracting."

"Yeah, you go ahead and laugh. Wait until the Orion hawks get after _you_. They'll have you pole dancing before you know it."

"Hmph. Not likely"

Travis smirked. "Alright, I bet you a week's worth of kitchen duty they have you _at least _considering it before we leave."

"Okay, you're on!"

* * *

><p><strong>Cor Caroli System<br>**_**I.S.S. Gladius  
><strong>__**(3 days earlier)**_

"I'm sure _Kohl'ashkar _can offer your crew everything they desire! We've proudly served the recreational needs of…" Shodar said, smiling magnanimously.

"Just transmit docking information!" Hess demanded. She was already sweating a little with the effort. Just talking to this…_green-skin piece of filth_…was taxing. Extremely _frustrating_. He wouldn't get to the _point_.

He just kept _talking_!

She wanted to smash the view screen. And she would have, if it would have actually _hurt _him somehow.

"Certainly, captain!" Shodar said, smiling. "And I do hope you grace us…"

Hess slammed her fist down on the makeshift communications station, dislodging bits and pieces of electronics in the process. It would require a little patching up now before it could be used again, not that she cared. She didn't want to talk anymore anyway.

She turned to find Connors standing behind her. Staring down at her. He was breathing heavily and looking a little wild eyed.

He was almost vibrating with…_need_.

He'd scrounged up a nasty looking length of pipe somewhere, she saw. And he'd glued broken shards of glass to the business end of it at some point.

She liked that.

She wanted it.

So she took it. And shoved him into the wall when he roared at her.

That got him going. He bounced back quickly, grabbing her hair and shaking her around a little to express his displeasure. So she bit him on the face when she broke free.

And that was okay. That was fun. Now they were really getting in the mood.

* * *

><p>T'Pol almost stepped out of the elevator. But she spotted it in time to stop herself.<p>

There was an Orion laying on the floor, just two steps beyond. And, had he not been drenched in blood already, she would have smelled the distinctive tang of copper in the air anyway.

And…the faint smell of decay. So he had been lying there for some time.

Her peripheral vision immediately reported no other bodies or anything else threatening in the room, before she could even take her eyes away to search the area. It reported, in fact, that there was a suspicious _lack_ of anything in immediate view that might distract attention from the body on the floor.

In any other instance she would have considered her reaction merely a throwback to habits developed in combat. It was an obvious trap. Or would have been, were she back on Vulcan during the imperial annex.

Naturally, it was unlikely in the extreme that she'd stumbled upon a booby-trap in the foyer of _Kohl'ashkar Station_, of all places**. **But such threat awareness had proven logical to retain over the years. So she had never bothered unlearning it.

"Oh my God…" Hoshi breathed, instinctively stepping around T'Pol to rush forward and render aid.

If she were Human, T'Pol would have thrown out an arm to block her way, to stop her from moving forward. But that would require abrupt physical contact.

That sort of instinct Vulcans simply didn't have. And if they were ever to develop such reactions, they learned the hard way to relinquish them. It could be exceedingly uncomfortable.

So she issued a warning, as any Vulcan would. And as any other Vulcan would have instantly acknowledged.

"Stop." She said, quickly.

But Hoshi was Human. So she didn't stop. She continued forward around T'Pol, only sparing her an inquiring glance. Which made it all the more impossible for her to spot the tripwire before she step through it.

* * *

><p><strong>Cor Caroli System<br>**_**I.S.S. Gladius  
><strong>__**(3 days earlier)**_

Rodriguez limped down the corridor as quickly as he could. His leg should probably be screaming in agony. He shouldn't even be able to walk on it. But maybe he was too full of adrenaline and terror to feel much of anything.

He could hear himself whimpering a little, though. Not that he cared. The end of the hall, that's where he was going. He had to get there. Johnson and Carver were there. They would protect him.

Pounding on the door behind him. They were going to break through soon. Or remember how to override the keypad.

And they would catch him and hurt him again.

He whimpered openly now. Trying to hurry, leaning his shoulder against the wall to take the weight off his leg some. And the blood from his arm let him slide along a little, which gave him maybe an extra step.

Almost there…

Muffled beeping as someone hacked the keypad far behind him. His senses were acutely attuned to what was going back there, so he could _hear _it…

He was crying now. Sobbing openly. Unable to see clearly with blood and tears filling his eyes, but he knew the _Gladius _inside and out. The door was right here! The keypad…3215...opening…

He fell through as it slide aside, his leg deciding _now _to give out on him. Or maybe he'd just lost too much blood to stand up anymore.

He was suddenly terrified that he wouldn't be able to reach Johnson. And he cried out with relief when he found himself able to crawl forward.

Johnson had started struggling the moment he saw him. And Rodriguez was very, very glad to see that. It meant he wasn't dead. And that he could _move_.

Johnson _had _to move. He had to stand up and _protect _him.

He was making sounds, trying to yell past the gag in his mouth. Rodriguez tried, his entire focus now on _pulling _himself up. On reaching Johnson. Just pulling the pin on _one _cuff…_just one_! Johnson could free himself then and he could fall back to the floor.

Crawl under something. Hide! Let them get Johnson and not him!

He sobbed loudly, shaking and weak with terror. He couldn't do it! He pulled…with everything he had…up, up…just get up there! Lean on the side rail…oh, God, the blood making everything slick…hard to hold…up, up…

Desperately he threw out one hand, grabbing the cuff holding Johnson's far wrist…snatching out the pin…he did it!

Trying to hold on to the rail…

But he slipped and fell again. Back to the floor, banging his head on the side of the gurney along the way.

Everything swam out of focus. And Rodriguez found he didn't mind. He kind of wished he _would _fall unconscious…just sleep through it all…

Just…die. Get away. Escape. Out of this hell…

But Johnson was shaking him. So he had to focus…warn him…_they were coming_…!

He couldn't figure out at first what Johnson was so mad about. Why he was snarling at him like that.

Then a fist came crashing down, shattering his jaw. And _that _he felt.

Rodriguez tried to scream but Johnson was already choking him.

With one hand. The other continued raining down on his face. Impossibly fast, over and over. An insane fury driving the blows, cracking bones…

Johnson was screaming just fine. But _he _couldn't. That didn't seem fair…

He started to pass out again. At last. Thank God…

But then Johnson started clawing at his eyes…

* * *

><p>Hoshi stared, confused. When she'd jerked like that, she hadn't even realized anything had hit her. But there was something poking out of her chest. How did that get there?<p>

She started to say something. But she choked. And now she couldn't breath.

Her every instinct demanded that she not move. Not breath. Nothing. Do not move!

But she couldn't stop trying to cough. She really tried, but she couldn't.

"Do not move, Hoshi." T'Pol said, appearing out of nowhere in front of her, kneeling down to peer over her shoulder.

Hoshi suddenly caught a breath somehow. "Wha..?"

"Remain still."

"_Oh, God! Hoshi!" _Travis was behind her somewhere. That didn't matter, though. T'Pol was going to help. Because there was something poking out of her chest. And she couldn't breath.

She snatched out one hand, even though she wasn't supposed to move. Digging her fingers into T'Pol's shoulder didn't work, though. She still couldn't catch her breath…

* * *

><p><em><strong>(3 days earlier)<strong>_

Hess relieved herself a bit by grinding her fist into the airlock door. Taking a moment to scratch wildly at it now and again. Airlock cycling forever! Open, open, open!

Behind her others gathered around. Roaring, screaming, demanding. Shove her into door when they press in, _pushing_.

Someone cut others loose. Too many. So many. This her ship!

She screamed and pushed back! My door! Mine!

Too many. Her stick make them get off. Everyone screaming!

Yes! Door!

Grinning wildly, overcome with joy, she let herself be swept along as they poured through.

Everyone screaming!

* * *

><p>Hoshi screamed.<p>

And that surprised her. Where'd she get the breath to do that?

She fell back into Travis, who had been ready to catch her when T'Pol cut the thing off. Blood splattered from somewhere, right out into the air. But she could catch her breath now, and that's what was important.

"Travis, take care not to disturb it." T'Pol said. "Continue to support her."

Oh, right. That stick was still poking out of her chest. That hurt.

She was shaking now. And it hurt _more_. All she wanted to do was close her eyes, breath in and out, and moan shakily at how much it _hurt_. So that's what she did. T'Pol and Travis could handle the rest. She didn't care about that.

"Captain…" Travis said.

T'Pol focused on carefully clipping the other end of the shaft. The part sticking out of the front of Hoshi's chest. She'd cut the back part as close to the skin as she dared, to minimize any impact that might cause Hoshi further injury.

Once first aid had been rendered, it would be acceptable to remove her to the _Seleya _for a more diligent…

"_Captain…!" _Travis warned.

She spared him a glance. He was focused sharply on something down the corridor behind her. Beyond the lounge.

She looked over her shoulder, supporting Hoshi with one hand. An Orion male, at the far end of the hall. Naked, bruised, badly wounded. Something…a broken length of sharp plastic…in one hand. He looked dazed and…highly emotional. And…he had an erection.

Two others behind him now. One of them Human. That one wore the remains of a Starfleet uniform. Operations, judging from the stripe. Both likewise armed with crude melee weaponry.

They were charging forward now. Screaming.

T'Pol didn't hesitate. She released her grip on Hoshi, eliciting another weak scream of pain from her. Quickly, she switched her weight from one knee to the other, turning and drawing her phase pistol to open fire.

* * *

><p>"You don't think she's…?" Malcolm asked.<p>

"Well, she's cute." Trip said, shrugging lightly. "And real easy to get along with."

Malcolm considered that.

"Lovely bum." He said, after a moment.

"Oh, yes. Got to agree with you there."

"Hmm."

"I kind of assumed she and Travis…?"

Malcolm sighed.

"Yes, probably."

"Ahh." Trip said. "Well, she just got here, didn't she? You should make your move."

"Well…"

The comm at his belt chimed. Malcolm grabbed it and flipped it open, all business now.

"Yes, captain?"

_"Move in. Secure the dock."_

"Right away, captain."

Malcolm slide the comm back into his pocket.

"Well, alright. Time to earn our pay." He said, nodding at the airlock.

Trip followed behind as Malcolm moved forward, adjusting the rifle at his chest again nervously. "Aren't we supposed to take position in the lounge?"

"I imagine the captain found a little trouble. These things never go smoothly. Best laid plans and all that."

Malcolm slapped the airlock controls lightly, stepping through quickly when the door opened. Trip close on his heels.


	24. Chapter 23

T'Pol's first three shots hit center mass on each of the men in the corridor. She'd maintained weapons discipline since the war, after all. She was a good shot.

But there was no discernible effect, other than to halt their individual howling for a short moment. They continued to run toward her, intent on violence.

Quickly extending her middle finger, she flipped the dial on the barrel of Vulcan issue phase pistol to 'kill'. With her other hand she reached for the comm clipped to her belt.

But that left only time for two well aimed shots before they reached her.

They were going to be overrun. By only _three _men.

"_Dvunuh-tor weinet!" _She ordered, already firing again. She caused one of the men at least to fall…

Oh. This wasn't Vulcan. The booby-trap and the situation itself…for a moment she'd thought she was back in…

"Retreat to the elevator!" She corrected, in English this time.

One last shot, going against all her training, aimed at the head. One _never _aims for the head. It is extremely effective, a reliable kill shot. But far too difficult to successfully perform in combat.

But in the background, down the corridor, the one she'd dropped…he was getting back up again…

So she fired…and missed.

And he was on her, _diving _at her where she crouched on one knee. Impacting, forcing them both to slide and tumble back. He howling and grasping at her all the while.

She held on to the comm…but the phase pistol skittered into the elevator behind her. Beyond her reach. And then the other one tumbled onto them.

* * *

><p>Trip looked around, nervously. There was absolutely no one at the dock. The entire boarding area was empty. And quiet.<p>

"Well…dock secured." He said, joking.

"Keep your eyes open, Mr. Tucker." Malcolm said, his rifle shouldered, intent on peering into every shadow and watching every corner.

Trip frowned at first…but if Malcolm was in soldier-mode, well, he reckoned he ought to be, too. So he shouldered his rifle and did his best to be ready for…whatever it was Malcolm was trying to be ready for.

* * *

><p>T'Pol expected to be physically assaulted. It was clear that is what the man had intended when he'd first begun running toward her in the corridor. But she hadn't expected to be bitten…<p>

The first one, the one atop her, had immediately sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

And _pulled_.

Trying to rip her flesh away with his _teeth_.

Despite herself, she cried out.

Her hand free of the phase pistol, she began striking him repeatedly in the head. To almost no effect, at first. Despite fracturing his skull with the third blow…

Then he let go of her shoulder, to howl madly himself. And struck her back…_hard_.

Her ears rang and her vision swam. It was impossible for a human to _strike _that hard…

The Orion was unable to get to her, so he settled for slamming his fist wildly into her other arm. And that, too, was astonishingly painful.

The third man, the one she'd dropped in the corridor, hadn't reached them yet. But T'Pol knew already she was going to die. Logic dictated then that she escalate her own level of violence.

She grabbed the Human's head with her free hand, yanking it to the side by the hair as far as she could…and sunk her own teeth into his throat.

* * *

><p>Trip was shocked. Orion or not, the poor woman was obviously badly wounded. She was covered in blood and there were…<em>things <em>jammed into her green skin.

She'd just wandered in out of the public restroom. Stumbling forward, groaning. Clearly in shock.

He lowered his rifle, stepping forward, calling out.

"Ma'am, are you alright?"

"Tucker…" Malcolm said, knowing there was something very wrong with the situation.

The blood, he realized…it was red. Orions had _green _blood, like Vulcans.

He hissed. _"Tucker! Get back!" _

Trip turned, surprised at his sudden tone. So he didn't see the woman suddenly begin sprinting straight for him.

* * *

><p>T'Pol held on tight as the man bled to death. He was the only cover she had available to her.<p>

He continued to struggle violently, kneeing and striking her to get free. Long enough that she was finally forced to turn her face free of the pulsing gouts of blood from the artery she'd severed…leaving her open to the Orion…

He clawed for her instantly, digging the nails of one hand into her cheek…trying to _pull_…

A phase pistol discharged rapidly above her head. And the Orion gradually released her as he slunk to one side.

More screaming and sounds of struggle near at hand. Then three more shots.

Then nothing but heavy breathing.

T'Pol eventually realized that she still had her eyes closed, the dead Human pulled close and wrapped tightly about her. She was…_afraid _to look. Or move.

Intolerable, of course.

She opened her eyes to find Travis peering down from above.

"You okay, captain?" He asked, out of breath and more than a little bloody himself.

"Get him off me." She said, quietly.

Travis immediately grabbed the corpse, dropping the phase pistol to free both his hands. With a yank, he rolled the man over to the floor beside her.

T'Pol got to her feet. Slowly, surprisingly off balance and…weak.

She realized she'd swallowed a significant amount of the Human's blood…causing her to experience a sudden and powerful nausea.

Calmly, she activated the comm she still held in her hand.

The sleeve of her jacket had been ripped away at some point in the struggle, so she could see the brown and green mottling along the length of her arm from the Orion's assault. It hurt, but she raised the comm when Malcolm answered.

"_Yes, captain?"_

"Move in. Secure the dock." She said.

"_Right away, captain."_

T'Pol weaved, standing in place. She realized distantly that she was in shock…

…then turned and bent to vomit on the floor.

It was disturbingly red.

* * *

><p>Trip turned back to find the woman was already nearly on top of him. That and the fact that she started screaming wildly at precisely that moment was enough to startle him pretty strongly.<p>

Enough that he stumbled back. And fell.

Sprawling, he didn't even have time to _think _how to react before several shots whined through the air.

The woman jerked and stumbled…just a single step from close enough to fall right on top of him. And…he realized she was _still _trying to get to him with _another _stumbling step…

Then she fell. Face first to the floor beside him. Her back smoking from multiple phaser strikes.

He released the breath he didn't even know he was holding in a single rush. "Jesus." He said, almost laughing. "Thanks. What the hell's going…?"

"That wasn't me." Malcolm said tightly. "You were in the bloody way."

Scooting away from the crazy woman, he glanced quickly back at Malcolm.

He was rigid, aiming down the sights of his phase rifle…at three Orions across the room.

Trip stared at them, too.

Three _armed _Orions, pointing guns at them.

Right. She'd been shot in the _back_.

"Oh…hi." He said.

* * *

><p>"Captain…are you sure…?"<p>

"Yes." She said, calmly. "Tend to Hoshi. Inspect the perforating object for dislocation."

"Inspect the…? Oh. Right."

Travis went back into the elevator, leaving T'Pol to lean one-handed against the wall, trying to catch her breath unobserved.

"It's still there." Travis called back. "She's unconscious though, captain."

T'Pol nodded.

Which was ridiculous. He couldn't see her from there.

"That is good. Maintain your vigil."

At least long enough for her to catch her breath in private. And wipe the…_blood_…from her face…

Something behind her…

A distant, animalistic snarl.

She jerked around. Entirely overreacting.

That was why Vulcans did not like surprises, after all. They prefer to act. Not _react_. Actions could be guided by reason. By logic. Reactions were typically instinctive. And therefore either dangerous, destructive or entirely unproductive.

Much like the instinctive desire to scream and run away that came over her suddenly.

There were several more at the end of the corridor. Perhaps a dozen. And more shoving their way into the small crowd from either side down there, already beginning to huff and snarl when they saw her…

"Travis." She called out, walking backwards toward the elevator without even realizing it. "Is there an emergency exit in the roof of the elevator?"

"Uh…let me…yeah, it's…"

"Open it."

"You want me to…?"

They began howl. Running down the corridor.

"_Now, Travis!"_

Not a proper scream, exactly. But she _did _turn and run.


	25. Chapter 24

Malcolm didn't waver an iota, keeping his aim squarely at the chest of the fattest Orion of the bunch. The one hiding in the shadows behind the other three.

"I appreciate the help, Nallin. Now have your chaps take their weapons off my crewman."

Trip didn't notice the big one until he emerged from the shadows. He was too busy trying to decide if he'd had enough aliens aiming energy weapons at him to justify getting nervous.

"Malcolm?"

"Quiet, Tucker." Malcolm said.

The gunman on the far left pulled his head from his weapon sights long enough to glance meaningfully back at his boss. For an Orion, he was practically shouting his intentions.

The boss, Nallin, nodded almost imperceptibly. He still hadn't spoken or acknowledged Malcolm at all. The man lowered his weapon quickly and headed for Trip. Staring at him intently the whole while.

Which _did _make him nervous. Very much so.

"One more step, Nallin…" Malcolm warned.

"I have more guns than you do, British." Nallin rumbled.

"You know that doesn't matter."

And the Orion thug's knee exploded. Vaporizing in an instant, sending him tumbling to the floor before he got halfway across the room.

Malcolm had his rifle trained on Nallin again before his men could bring their rifles to bear on him.

The man writhed on the floor, screaming. Scooting back from the horror of his own cauterized leg still lying where it had fallen.

Nallin sighed with frustration, then grunted once. Another quick shot, from one of his own men this time, ended the noise disrupting the scene.

"I want that one, British." Nallin announced.

"How many men are you willing to spend? I've got a full cell here."

"All of them."

To their credit, none of his thugs so much as twitched.

So, perhaps not professionals or especially skilled, but brave enough.

Malcolm thought it over. Then took his eye from his rifle sight to meet Nallin's openly.

"What's all this about, then?"

* * *

><p>T'Pol didn't stop moving until she impacted the back wall of the elevator, only just stepping <em>over<em>, rather than _on_, Hoshi's prone form.

Travis showed an alertness and clarity of thought that she had up to now only hoped he might display in dangerous situations. He stepped into the doorway the instant she cleared it to begin firing into the oncoming mob.

T'Pol whirled about and stabbed at the elevator controls, to close the door.

It didn't move.

Of course.

The booby trap that had nearly killed Hoshi indicated that either someone else had laid traps for the violently disturbed masses threatening the station…or they themselves, despite their utter lack of self control, somehow maintained the wherewithal to do so.

In either case, that the elevator might have been rigged to allow travel in only one direction should not have surprised her.

Perhaps a Human might have found it remarkable that she would be concerned with decorum at a time like this, but she was. She was Vulcan. So she was thankful that Travis' back was to her, so that she could close her eyes and grit her teeth. Quickly attempt to _center _herself somewhat.

Let go the terror that threatened to rule her and reclaim _reason_.

She was Vulcan, after all. And she had never wavered in her disciplines. So it only took a moment. But it was simply unacceptable that another, even Travis, should witness that instant of weakness.

Her head cleared, her eyes darted over Travis' shoulder. They were seconds away. He'd stopped only a handful of them, though he'd fired many times. Alert and level-headed perhaps, but not well trained with the phase pistol. She made a quick mental note to address that in the future.

The most acceptable path of highest probable survivability was determined quickly. So she acted as quickly. She reached forward, snatching Travis by the back of the neck and the seat of his pants…exerting all her natural strength to catapult the suddenly thrashing pilot up and through the overhead hatch.

* * *

><p>It didn't help Malcolm's calm that more and more Orion gunmen kept pouring into the dock the longer this 'conversation' drew on. But it had long since passed the point of ludicrous anyway. He may have talked a tough game with Nallin, but he'd been outgunned for a while now. He could only hope to keep him talking. Maybe stumble across something that would help <em>Nallin's <em>calm. Because he was dead set on taking Tucker, whatever the cost.

As Malcolm was dead set on not having to explain to the captain how he'd misplaced her...well, he wasn't sure exactly _what_ Tucker was to her. But he was pretty sure she wouldn't have any reaction whatsoever to the news that he'd lost him.

Which would be bad.

"How can you be sure this is _his _fault?" Malcolm asked.

"I know him! I have seen his face! It was _his _gear that brought the sickness!" Nallin insisted.

"Gear?" Trip asked, still sitting on the floor. "What gear? I don't have any gear! I wasn't here for an hour before you people cracked me in the back of the head and took everything I had!"

"Be quiet, Tucker." Malcolm warned. And, bloody hell, the man didn't know how to _not _draw attention to himself, did he?

"Your discs and electronics!" Nallin yelled, snorting. "They were tainted! Corrupted with a foul disease! You came here to murder us all!"

"The database? You _have _it?" Trip sprang to his feet.

Half a dozen rifles snapped to cover him again.

"We locked them away. Behind a foot of duranium! Still my people go crazy! But now _you _are here…and you will stop this!"

"Wait…hold on, here…" Malcolm said.

"They've got the database, Malcolm…"

"Shut it, Tucker!" Malcolm hissed.

"But T'Pol's down there! And Shodar doesn't have it!"

"Shut up!"

* * *

><p>Travis landed with a grunt, following an embarrassingly high-pitched girly scream at being tossed about like a rag doll. It was only blind luck and a lot of fumbling that kept him from bouncing off his buttocks and falling right back through the hatch.<p>

He barely had time to register what in the world had just happened to him before T'Pol's head and shoulders popped up next to him. Followed by an only barely conscious Hoshi's. The woman must have been standing on the handrails down there _and _hoisting Hoshi's dead weight about.

"You must pull her up, Travis." T'Pol said breathlessly. "Quickly."

Shuffling, thumping and a score of screaming voices from below prompted him to snatch Hoshi beneath her arms and _heave_…all the more desperately when T'Pol suddenly jerked downward, until only her head and hands were visible anymore.

Travis came to the decision, on some deep, barely rational level, that risking further injury to Hoshi was just going to have to be acceptable right about now. So he growled and twisted and somehow pulled her up, over and out of the hatch. It still hurt a bit to hear her cry out so weakly.

But he did manage to grant T'Pol enough space to reach further out, grab blindly at the roof of the elevator and _pull_…tearing what Travis could only hope was her clothing in the process. Because he could _hear _the tearing, even over the madness below.

And the insane effort T'Pol was putting into getting through that hatch…the stark intensity rolling off of her…he could easily believe they were ripping her legs off down there, and she was still aiming to get herself the hell up and out.

When she finally did clear the hatch, he was actually thankful it had been the legs of her trousers that had been ripped to shreds. Rather than her actual legs themselves. Though they _were_ bloodied and cut well enough in their own right. And that alone was impressive. Some of the scratches were pretty deep.

He barely had time to let out of breath of mild relief before she shocked him by grabbing his wrist and _twisting_…

"Ah! _Ah! _Captain…? _AH!"_

She finally twisted the steel bracelet off his wrist, taking more than a little skin with it in her haste.

A quick twist and snap, and she had the simple, cheap steel chain broken off. And…the outer plate of the thing popped loose…

A green head poking through the hatch, roaring with fury the moment he spotted them, and got a face full of her boot before she tossed the bracelet in to follow him down…

Then she depressed the shiny red button on the little remote that had appeared in her hand out of nowhere…

Sound and light filled the space below, thumping the roof of elevator enough to nudge him a good inch or two into the air.

The tone and pitch of the chaos below changed slightly, but it didn't seem to have any other impact. Or maybe it just that his ears were ringing...

"That was ineffective." T'Poll observed. "We must move. Up the elevator shaft…"

"Captain, what was…?"

"You will proceed."

"Was that a…?"

"I will carry Hoshi."

"Did you just…?"

"Now, Travis."

* * *

><p>Malcolm made his decision. He was to just going to have to hope he understood Nallin as well as he thought he did.<p>

Because no one ever really knows an Orion.

He lowered his weapon, then dangled and dropped it at his feet.

"Nallin, we don't know what's going on here. But whatever it is, it can't be Tucker's fault. I know this man. He's part of my crew."

Nallin, despite being the skillful player he was, actually showed shocked surprise for a brief moment. So Malcolm knew his ploy had at least gotten through to the man.

After a period of silence, with a score of Orion gunmen showing not the first indication that they were wondering why there was no order to open fire, Nallin eventually spoke.

"I'll ask you again, British." Nallin said. "Do all the people from your little island have tritanium testicles? Or is it just you?"

Malcolm didn't sag and sigh with relief, as he wanted to. Instead, he squared his shoulders a bit and tugging his jacket into place properly.

"I keep telling you, we all do. I can't imagine why you keep asking."

* * *

><p>Travis had stopped caring so much about the crazy people following them up the sides of the elevator shaft. They weren't having any luck catching up to them, since they kept falling off and taking half a dozen others with them in the process.<p>

It might have been funny to stop and watch…but then that was probably the latent hysteria talking.

No, what he was really concerned with at the moment was why the hell everyone had strapped a flash bang grenade to his wrist and lied to him about it.

"Did Hoshi know?"

"Travis, I am not prepared to discuss this at this time."

"Because that'd be pretty cold blooded. We were laughing and joking in the corridor and the whole time she knew about it."

"Hoshi was not made aware of that portion of the plan."

"But Malcolm knew. This was his little invention, wasn't it? Because of that girl back on Algernon, right?"

"I am not privy to the incident on Algernon. Nor am I interested in the details."

"Tucker I can understand. He's Starfleet, I bet he'd strap a bomb to his own mother just for kicks. He must have thought it was really funny."

"Travis, while Vulcans may enjoy a reputation for exceptional muscular strength, relative to other species, it is nevertheless extremely difficult to scale a ladder, transport an unconscious Human on one's shoulder and participate in an emotional discussion while fleeing from..."

"And you're the worst! A guy's supposed to be able to trust his captain! How I am supposed to trust you now? The next time you want me to leave the ship or give me some nice jewelry, what am I going to think?"

"This discussion is over."


	26. Chapter 25

It was hard with so many green-skins glaring down at him, but Trip tried to focus. Tried to figure out how the heck this had happened.

He shook his head. "I don't know. I just don't get it. The rift is light years away from here."

"So then the database must have carried the effect with it somehow." Malcolm insisted.

"I don't see how that could be possible." Trip said, thinking furiously. "Sure, it's the only thing that makes sense but…okay, let's see…we're talking about some kind of psychosis. A really violent, hysterical kind of psychosis, caused by reduced subspace pressure on the central nervous system. There would have to be some kind of interphasic distortion centered on the _debris_…"

"Wait, _reduced _pressure? You mean _less _than normal?"

"Yes. It's an aspect of spacetime, so it exists around us all the time. And it puts pressure on the nervous system. Just like…air pressure, I guess. It's not much, you can't even measure it. I mean, this is all theoretical really. But, _theoretically_, if you alter it even a little bit…just like with air pressure…"

"Then can't you just increase the subspace pressure around here and stop it?"

Trip shook his head emphatically. "If that were even possible, there's no way to…look, that's just not possible."

"Well, it obviously is, since it's happened. You're a warp engineer, this is your thing isn't it?"

"Malcolm, that's like saying, 'Gee, Trip, all we need to do is to generate a warp field bubble that we can run around in without having to take the engine with us. Why don't you scrounge around here and whip us up one?'"

Malcolm frowned, frustrated. "I don't know anything about…"

"It's like saying we need an explosive we can detonate _here _that gives us the rapid increase in volume and energy over _there_. But without any kind of shockwave. And maybe let's make it constant and move it around wherever we want..."

"Alright, alright, I get it."

"Why don't you just break down your phase rifle and whip us up one of _those_, Malcolm?"

"I get it!"

* * *

><p>Nallin observed the two Humans arguing. His English was good, of course, but…he wasn't sure he was following the conversation very well. Still, it seemed like they weren't coming to any…<p>

Seya was at his side, suddenly.

Dammit, why did Loya let _her _in here? She was supposed to keep her distracted while he dealt with this!

"_What are they saying?" _Seya demanded.

His mate was very demanding. Very impatient. Always trying to butt into men's business.

Which really wouldn't be so bad, if she weren't so stupid.

He could _lie_, of course. Just to put her at ease…but she always knew when he was lying.

"_I think they don't know what to do." _Nallin admitted.

Seya looked disgusted. _"That one. You said he was a scientist. I read his letters to the Vulcan woman. I don't believe he's a scientist."_

"_He's an engineer."_

Seya frowned at that.

"_I don't know what that is." _She pouted.

"_It's like a mechanic scientist."_

"_Then he can stop this!"_

"_He doesn't know what is causing it, my love."_

"_He must. He just doesn't want to. He is Starfleet! What does he care if Orions die!"_

She was getting a little upset.

She was going to do something stupid in a moment…

"_Seya." _Nallin soothed. _"Calm yourself, my beauty. I promise you, when this is over…"_

"_I know what he likes. I will make him fix this."_

"_Seya…now, don't make trouble…"_

"_Leave it to me."_

"_Seya…" _Nallin warned.

She hissed at him, shrugging him off. And…_sauntered _over to the Humans.

Nallin sighed. Damn, now he had _this _to contend with…

* * *

><p>Travis grunted with effort. It had been a hell of a long climb. And they were <em>still <em>down there trying to climb up after them.

Pretty far down there, maybe trailing by half a minute or so. But it looked like the ones too crazy to climb well had all fallen off. Which left a whole lot that were hurrying up the ladder after them with no problem.

The screaming and howling had just about driven him crazy by then. It had stopped being funny a good, long time ago. Especially now that it looked like they were actually going to catch up to them.

Putting his hand through that doorway, reaching _out _of the shaft to slap a palm to solid ground again…well, so to speak…that felt really good. A great relief. It meant he could stand on his feet again and spend a minute catching his breath. Even if it _did _mean he'd just have to start running instead of climbing, once they finally caught up with them…

Something grabbed his wrist.

And _yanked_…

Travis gasped in surprise, looking up to see the bared teeth of an Orion, growling and straining to drag him up and through the open portal.

He fumbled wildly for the captain's phase pistol, tucked in his belt. They were up here, too! They had him!

The pistol dislodged, knocked lose…bounced a moment between his fingers…he _almost_…and it was gone.

"_D'mohka osse_, Human." The Orion growled, still straining, not pulling him even an inch closer…

Travis froze. Wait…wha…?

The Orion somehow managed to put a little more effort into it and Travis suddenly found himself face to face with him. He could smell his breath.

Travis snapped out it, started fighting again, hooking his feet into the rungs of the ladder. Pulling _back_…

Another green face appeared. Beautiful, and very concerned, haloed in raven hair. Attractive enough that it would have been stunning, under any other circumstance…

"He said stop _struggling,_ you stupid Human!" She cried.

* * *

><p>Malcolm was in an extremely uncomfortable situation. He didn't quite know what to do.<p>

"I think that is _very _interesting." Seya breathed. "You must be _sooo _talented." She twirled her fingers in little circles on Trip's chest. _Under _his shirt.

"Uh…" Trip stuttered. "Yeah…it's…uh…not as…*_gulp*_…hard as it sounds."

Malcolm cleared his throat.

"Right. We were just talking about that." He offered.

Trip almost tore his eyes away to glance at him. Almost. But the Orion woman had already snagged every bit of his attention.

Malcolm frowned. This was extremely uncomfortable. And frustrating. Extremely frustrating.

"Isn't there _anything _you can do?" Seya drawled, sliding just a little up and down Trip's body. As she were trying to find _just _the right spot to rest upon. Where she'd be the most comfortable.

And close. Especially close.

And, you know, this was starting to piss Malcolm off.

Why was this Tucker fellow getting all the women around here? First the captain, now this…_gorgeous _creature…

The only woman that _wasn't _throwing herself at him was Hoshi. And maybe she _was _pining for the bloke and he just hadn't noticed.

And that thought really made him angry. Because that just wasn't fair! Why, he ought to…

Oh. Right.

Bloody pheromones.

She was stroking one hand along Trip's arm. Up and down. Slowly. Clearly enjoying, quite thoroughly, the feel of his muscles beneath her hand.

"Mmm." She moaned.

Trip shuddered a bit.

_Oh, for the love of…_

Malcolm leaned back slightly to bring Nallin into view. He was still standing way over _there_, with the rest of the Orion men who were smart enough _not _to be in range of all that.

He caught Nallin's eye, gesturing at Seya. _Come on_, _man_…

Nallin just looked back regretfully, he hands wide. _What can I do…?_

Malcolm glared hard, gesturing more emphatically. _She's __your__ woman! __Do__ something!_

Nallin gave him a quick once over, frowning and jerking his head back slightly. _What, are you nuts? I'm not coming over there!_

Malcolm look disgusted, giving the same look right back. _You're pathetic._

Nallin folded his arms across his chest, shrugging slightly. _Whatever, Human. _

* * *

><p>"Please, give this one to Harish." The woman said. "He is a skilled physician. He can help her."<p>

She wore an armored vest. And a vicious looking phaser rifle. As did the male.

T'Pol stood at the lip of the elevator shaft, keeping Hoshi steady on her shoulder with one hand. Ready to defend her with the other, if necessary. But...

They were strangers, yes…and well armed. Where as Travis had dropped the only phase pistol they had...

But the howling below and behind was drawing closer.

"Very well." T'Pol said, removing Hoshi's unconscious body from her shoulder, to place her carefully in the Orion man's waiting arms.

The woman jerked her head at him and he quickly whisked Hoshi away. Travis practically disappeared, right on the man's trail.

"You are injured." The woman observed. "We have medics. They are not physicians like him, but they are good. Come…"

"My life is not in immediately danger." T'Pol interrupted. "It would preferable if you explained the situation to me instead. In the process of securing this entrance."

T'Pol gestured to the open door behind her. The one filled with screaming maniacs scaling the ladder only a few dozen feet below them.

"Oh. Of course." The Orion said.

And stepped over to press a button on the panel. Causing the door to slide easily shut. Secured.

Ah. So.

"You are the ones responsible for the elevator's failure to ascend." She accused.

The Orion woman squinted in confusion for a moment. "Failure…? Oh, you mean…yes, we didn't want _them _to come here. And we use it to send the others down when they go crazy. Like _them_."

"And the trap?" T'Pol asked.

"Trap? Is that what injured your woman?"

"Yes. It was set before the door below."

"Waiting for someone to _leave_ the elevator." The woman pointed out. "Yes, they have traps throughout the station, to wound and maim us."

_They_ hadn't set the trap? The one that had injured Hoshi so grievously?

So, as she suspected, the ones below were not as devoid of cunning as she'd hoped…which added an element to the threat that would undoubtedly prove all the more difficult to..

'…_dammit, Tucker…not…any other…'_

T'Pol turned her attention down the hall. That had been Malcolm…it was faint, in the distance…down the left corridor, through a doorway…at least forty meters beyond that…

She turned and walked quickly in that direction, following the distant voice.

"Um…hello…Vulcan woman?" The Orion said, disapproving. "It would be better to be escorted…it is dangerous…if you will wait, I will get men for you…"

* * *

><p>"We're just <em>talking<em>, Malcolm! Why don't you give it a rest?" Trip said.

"We don't have time for this, Tucker." Malcolm argued. "We're in a bit of situation here…"

"Well, maybe she can help? Did you think of that? If these crazies are all over the station, we could probably use some help, don't you think?"

Seya sighed. "Go _away_, British. Trip and I are _talking_."

"You shut it, Seya!"

"Hey!" Trip snapped. "Watch your damned mouth!"

"Get your head straight! You've got an _Orion _on your hip, you twit."

Trip opened his mouth to retort…but something about that…

Oh. Right.

Pheromones.

He looked at Seya with surprise. A little confused. And hurt.

Had she…? She wasn't…was she…?

No, no. Malcolm was just jealous.

Right?

"Mr. Tucker." Someone else was talking now. "What is going on here?"

Who was that?

Oh, T'Pol!

"T'Pol. Hi." He said, vacantly. "Um…Malcolm was…"

Malcolm was _something_…

Oh, right. Malcolm was being an ass.

Trip frowned, furrowing his brow. Confused, but relatively sure he remembered what was going on…

"We're…uh…trying to figure out what we're going to do and…Malcolm's being a pain in the…oh, hey! You're hurt! Wha' happened?"

T'Pol's looked him over, speculatively. Especially the addition to his person that he'd apparently acquired.

"Mr. Tucker. You must attempt to focus. It would prove expeditious if you removed the Orion woman from your hip."

"Oh…yeah…this is…um…" Damn, what was her name?

"Seya." The woman said coldly. Glaring at T'Pol. "And we're _busy_. Go _away_."

T'Pol eyebrow shot up. Then she turned her attention back to Tucker.

"Mr. Tucker, I realize we have not yet found an appropriate time to conclude our prior discussion, but I assume you are still prepared to offer your proposal?"

Tucker stared back. His mouth open slightly.

"Huh?" He asked, confused.

"Concerning the private matter we discussed."

"The huh?"

T'Pol hesitated a moment…

"Do you still wish to mate, Mr. Tucker?"

Oh! That! Yeah, that'd be…oh, but there was Seya here…but, yeah, that'd be great!

Trip smiled stupidly. "Yeah…that's…wow, yeah…"

T'Pol reached out and grasped a handful of Seya's hair, jerking downward slightly.

Seya suddenly disappeared. And something thumped on the floor with a surprised yelp.


	27. Chapter 26

T'Pol followed the Orion man to the small infirmary. They would have proceeded more efficiently, she thought, if he were not attempting both to lead her and to express sexual interest.

He continued to _leer_.

Not that his behavior was surprising. It was typical among most bi-gendered species. Members of one's opposing gender engaging in physical conflict did tend to be provocative. Dominant behaviors even more so.

Considering this, as well as the Orion compliment in the room, perhaps it would have been more efficient to simply render Seya unconscious. Naturally, considering the gender politics involved, Orion males could be expected to react strongly to such a display.

But, then again, no. In order to counter Seya's pheromonal effect on Mr. Tucker, it had been necessary to apply her body mass directly to the woman's chest, in order to render her immobile. In such a position, pulling the woman's hair until she complied with demands to recant her behavior had been the most effective method available.

In the end, this had successfully redirected Mr. Tucker's interests with minimal cognitive disruption, which had been the goal of the exercise to begin with.

Attempting to reason with him in that state would have inevitably failed. She would have been seen as demanding, to his altered perceptions, driving him closer to the seemingly receptive Seya. Establishing dominance has simply superseded all that.

And, now that she considered it, most likely his awareness that the sexual interest of most or all of the other males in the room had likewise been aroused had proven beneficial as well. Taking into account natural male instincts regarding sexual possessiveness.

"Look what she did to my _faaaace_! I'm _bleeeeeding_!"

The continued squealing from across the boarding area behind her drew her peripheral awareness more sharply in that direction. Seya was, of course, attempting to salvage the situation by eliciting the sympathetic attentions of the males proximal to her.

"Nallin! Naaallin! I'm _bleeeeding_!"

Especially Nallin. His interests naturally representing the greater loss she'd suffered in the ordeal. Reclaiming his attention would occupy her for some time now.

And, so, the entire incident seemed to have been successfully resolved.

"Noohoho! Don't _touch _it! It _huuuurts_!"

But having turned a portion of her awareness in that direction, she immediately detected someone moving in behind her, still several meters back.

Fortunately, she was able to identify her pursuer as Mr. Tucker _before _turning and preparing to defend herself against a possible threat. As it was, she continued moving forward without acknowledging his attempts to gain her attention.

Again, it was the most productive method.

"Ow! _Sto-ha-ha-op_!"

* * *

><p>T'Pol found Travis to her right when she entered the room. From the opaque plastic sheeting hanging across the wall immediately beyond him, and the activity going on beyond that, she concluded that the Orion physician had relocated Hoshi here in order to treat her.<p>

She diverted her attention from the first aid materials she'd come for…and Mr. Tucker's pursuit…in order to address that.

"Travis, report." She said.

He'd noticed her enter the room, of course, and had already stopped pacing fretfully, prepared to update her on the situation.

"Captain. They're working on Hoshi right now." He said, gesturing toward the operating area. "That Orion, Loya, says she was lucky. Could have been a lot worse. She should be okay, though."

"That is fortunate…"

Tucker entered the room, making a disruptive amount of noise in his haste.

"T'Pol…!"

She turned her head slightly, raising one hand to forestall his attempts to gain her attention. He responded immediately, coming to a halt and remaining quiet.

She found it gratifying that her actions had aided in the rapid recovery of his self control. At least to the degree that he normally possessed it.

She returned her attention to Travis. "We must trust that she will receive proper care. Return to the ship, retrieve my pulse rifle and vest from the locker, as well as a phase rifle for yourself, then return here promptly."

"Captain…"

Malcolm had entered the room as well, it seemed. She _had _instructed him to monitor Mr. Tucker's recovery in her absence, as her further presence would only have proven detrimental. So naturally he had chosen to pursue Mr. Tucker, even as he pursued her.

She turned fully to face those two, then.

"Malcolm. Weapons and general inspection when Travis returns. Hoshi will remain under the care of the Orion physician for now…"

"Captain, the database isn't down there. It's up here."

T'Pol stopped.

Of course. She had been preoccupied and had failed to receive his report..

"I see. One moment, Travis." She said, as he'd already darted around her to return to the ship. She turned back to Malcolm.

"Update me on the situation here." She said.

Interestingly, Mr. Tucker spoke instead. From the rapid pace of his speech, he'd apparently decided to issue a more concise update than he expected Malcolm would, in order to save time. His intention being, obviously, to remove the other two men from the room and regain her exclusive attentions sooner.

"Looks like the spacial distortion is localized on the debris recovered from the rift somehow." He said. "Or something like that, anyway. Nallin says people started going crazy around here right after I got here. They tossed the database in the safe in the security station when they realized what was going on."

"Then it should prove a simple matter to retrieve it…"

"No, the whole area's overrun with these…crazy people. Not that it matters."

T'Pol realized she was developing a headache. Her black market cybernetics acting up again, in response to the stress she'd endured recently. And it looked as if this attack would be an especially difficult one, as her vision even seemed slightly distorted.

"Mr. Tucker, the station's crew complement is approximately fifty. I encountered nearly that many below. Visitors and customers could not represent numbers great enough to overrun the upper levels of the station."

"Well, that's the other thing." Tucker grimaced. "Looks like the _Gladius _showed up a couple of days ago. We've got probably the whole crew running around in here, too. Or however many of them are still alive."

T'Pol considered. The full implications of what he was saying began to settle in her mind. True to Vulcan form, she processed all the variables and updated her understanding of the situation quickly.

"I see." She said. "Where is the _Gladius_ now? It was not visible on approach. It contains, according to your earlier statements, many tons of debris from the rift."

"No one knows." Malcolm interjected. "It showed up, docked, the crazies stormed out and by the time these few here managed to contain the situation it was just gone."

"I guess a survivor on board took the opportunity to escape." Trip said. "Or one of the crazies just got bored or something."

"Then that is not our concern. The database also has become useless to us. Are the data discs on which you stored the various correspondences true copies, as you have said? Not otherwise linked to the interphasic rift?"

"Uh…yeah." Tucker replied, confused. "I copied them myself. We couldn't really hold on to the originals without someone noticing, so I copied them and had them put back."

"Have they been stored in the security station safe as well?" T'Pol said.

Oh. Now Tucker got it. She wanted to get her hands on those before anyone else got a peek. Vulcan privacy and all. But…

"Yeah, according to Nallin, but look…T'Pol…"

Tucker seemed uncomfortable suddenly.

"Were they damaged?" T'Pol asked, concerned.

"Look…uh…I guess, someone must have noticed your name in there. I think…well, from what I gather the women around here were passing them around for a while before they got locked up."

T'Pol did not react to that.

At all.

For several seconds.

Then she blinked slowly and drew a deep breath. "I see."

Then she took another breath. "Were copies made? By the Orions?"

Tucker immediately shook his head. "No. Not according to any of the men, anyway. And that would have been pretty hard, the way Starfleet data discs are set up. I doubt anyone around here could have figured out how to get past the copy security. Or bothered trying. And, the way I hear it, they just passed them around and…uh…looked at them in groups…so, I don't think…"

"That is sufficient, Mr. Tucker." She said, quietly.

Her eyes turned slightly _away_. Making contact with no one. And she realized her hands were trembling slightly. So she tucked them safely behind her back.

So not only were her implants flaring up but the overall stress, the meditation she'd missed today and this new humiliation were all conspiring together to render her weak and pathetic.

Unacceptable. She had been in many dangerous situations in the past. And she had survived them all. She would survive this as well.

She turned suddenly to Malcolm, her voice firm again.

"The three of you will return to Seleya. Retrieve all the higher proof alcoholic beverages from the lounge and all nervous system suppressants, pain medication and sedatives from the medical bay. Take care to examine the precaution labels of each and research dangers associated with their interactions with one another."

"Mr. Tucker is to be restrained in the medical bay until you have reached a safe distance from this station, as he determines prior to being restrained. The various chemical restraints are to be administered as needed…"

"Whoa, what the hell?" Tucker exclaimed. "Restrained? What are you talking about?"

T'Pol regarded him, somewhat surprised. He was behaving stupidly. It should have occurred to him by now…

"Mr. Tucker, of us all, the Orions included, you have remained the longest in close proximity both to the interphasic rift and the debris recovered from it. Barring perhaps three or four days, you have remained under the effects of the spacial distortion for over two weeks. You are well overdue for developing the symptoms we witness here."

"I feel fine! There's nothing wrong with me." He argued.

"From what you described earlier, sensitivity and susceptibility to the effect varied significantly between individuals. However, there is no evidence of immunity, only varying levels of resistance. It is logical to assume you will soon succumb."

"Two weeks, T'Pol!" Tucker exclaimed. "I think it's logical to assume I'll be fine for a few more hours."

"That is an unacceptable risk."

"T'Pol…!"

"I have made my decision. The three of you are to abandon the station immediately. I will remain, retrieve the discs and guard Hoshi…"

"Whoa…!"

"Hold on…!"

"Captain…!"

"_This is not open for discussion!" _T'Pol snapped.

She glared at the three men surrounding her. They must do as they were told for once. The station represented a significant and overwhelming threat to her crew. She could allow no hesitation or argument now.

"You will do as you are told. Or I will be forced to subdue the three of you personally, restrain you aboard _Seleya _myself and contend with you when you have lost your sanity. That is both unacceptable and easily avoidable. Make your decision _now_."

"Captain…" Malcolm said, carefully. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine. You have your orders."

She was suffering some difficulty with the frustration that stemmed from the fact that they were _still arguing with her_.

"T'Pol…" Trip said, concerned.

Had it become necessary for her to make an example of someone? Take them in hand, drag to them to the ship? If she were especially vigorous in doing so, perhaps the remaining two would obey orders without being _beaten _first.

They were in danger. That should be obvious to them. Did they not care?

"T'Pol, you're…growling."

Oh. That.

That...was unusual.

She would have placed a hand to her chest to confirm the vibration she felt there. But her hands were still trembling.


	28. Chapter 27

T'Pol considered her situation for a moment. Then drew her hands from behind her to examine them. Despite this bringing them in view of the others.

They were indeed trembling, if only slightly. That coupled with the other symptoms…the headache which may or may not have been attributable to her faulty implants…the mild distortion of vision, which had never been an issue before…her increasing difficulty in suppressing simple frustration and aggression…perhaps even her assault on Seya…

Her unreasoning terror during the attack on the lower deck, come to think of it.

"It would seem the spatial distortion has begun to effect me." She decided.

The room was quiet for a moment. T'Pol stared at her hands.

"Captain, if you'll pardon me." Malcolm said. "I'd suggest it's time for us to get out of here. The database is poison and these discs of yours…they can't be worth the risk. I imagine Hoshi will be stable momentarily…and even if she's not, we should simply take her and go. Before…"

Well. Malcolm didn't really even want to say before _what_.

"What about the database?" Trip said. "We can't just leave it here. It's driving these people crazy. Sooner or later they'll _all _go nuts. Or they'll be only a handful of them that aren't and the crazies will get them."

Travis snorted. "Tucker, you can't be serious. What do _you _care? They're Orions."

"Look. " Tucker said, frowning. "They're aliens. I don't like them, I don't trust them and I don't want them around me. But that doesn't mean I don't care if they get ripped to pieces. All we have to do is get that database off the station. Drop it into a star or something. Anywhere people can't get near the effect. Nothing to it."

Malcolm was shaking his head. "No. We have to get the captain out of here. And Hoshi. This isn't our problem."

Trip started to object, but Malcolm cut him off.

"I know that sounds harsh but they _did _crack you on the head and steal that thing from you. So let them have it, I say."

"Damned right." Travis agreed, nodding.

"I can't believe this." Trip said, incredulously. "And you say _I'm _xenophobic. You're really going to leave these people to die?"

"Hasn't anything to do with that." Malcolm said. "They knew the database was the source of all this before we even got here. You're talking about fighting your way to the security station to get at it. There's nothing stopping them from doing it themselves. So let them. They can toss it out an airlock and wait for the crazies to recover. While we're gone."

Trip shook his head. "We don't know how far the effect reaches. What it's range is. The database is pretty small, relative to the rift itself. But we're talking about _spatial distortion_. Maybe size doesn't matter. It could be light years for all we know. Tossing it out an airlock might not help at all."

"Irrelevant." T'Pol said suddenly, raising her head, having contemplated her trembling hands for long enough.

"My concern is for my crew. That is all." She said. "Travis and Malcolm will retreat to _Seleya_ and take the ship immediately to Terra Nova_._ Mr. Tucker and I will wait here until the physician completes his treatment, then we will secure Hoshi and contact you, if Starfleet has not yet intervened at that time. If they have, then we will remove and rendezvous with you there."

Malcolm balked immediately. At all of that. But he focused on the most logical point, knowing her well enough.

"Captain, you just said a moment ago that Tucker was most at risk here." Malcolm argued. "And you're already starting to show symptoms."

"I can manage it. Perhaps indefinitely."

"With all respect, captain. From what the Orions tell me these people torture, murder and cannibalize everyone they can get their hands on. Including each other. How long do you think you can stave off that kind of insanity?"

"I am Vulcan. I suppress those impulses and more on an hourly basis. Now that I am aware of it, it should require little diligence to maintain functionality. So long as I am not unduly provoked."

"As for Mr. Tucker, he continues to show remarkable resistance. As he correctly argued earlier, enough that he can be expected to remain free of the effect for some hours still, if not indefinitely as well. And I can subdue him if that becomes necessary."

"Absolutely not, captain. I simply can't…"

"I have made my decision, Malcolm. You are free to obey or disobey my orders. But I will not discuss it further."

T'Pol turned away, back to the far wall and the first aid supplies she'd come for in the first place.

"You and Travis will give us the room now, whether you proceed to _Seleya _or not. If you do not, then you are no longer welcome there."

* * *

><p>Trip watched T'Pol for a while, as she gathered a double handful of various items from the shelf across the room. Watched her as much to be sure she wasn't going to start screaming or freaking out as…well, to try to figure out what was going on in her head. She'd kinda switched gears out of nowhere a couple of times there.<p>

In fact, to heck with this. She's Vulcan, right? Why I am standing around trying to figure out what she's up to? It's not like she's going to be all mysterious or anything. Or at least not intentionally, anyway.

"So what are you thinking?" He asked.

"I am contemplating the high probability of our impending death." She said calmly, arranging the first aid supplies on the table near the exam bed.

Okay, see Trip? Right there? That's why you didn't want to ask.

"You think we're going to die." He said.

"I think it is highly probable." She corrected. "Consequently, I have determined that…"

She stopped suddenly, considering something. Then nodded, interestingly enough, to herself.

"Excuse me, Mr. Tucker. I intend to speak with perhaps…"

"Why don't you call me Trip?"

T'Pol blinked. "What?"

"Trip. That's my name. My _father's _'Mr. Tucker'. I'm Trip."

T'Pol glared. "You previously indicated your first name was Charles."

"Well…it is. But everyone calls me Trip."

"Excuse me, Mr. Tucker. But if you are attempting to confuse me, then you can expect I may react in a destructive manner, considering my current condition."

"Okay. Calm down." Trip soothed quickly. "It's just…it's a Human thing. Just trust me. And besides, you didn't have any problem going from Commander Tucker to Mr. Tucker before…"

"Because, as you pointed out, Commander was no longer the more appropriate designation than Mister."

"Right. Okay. So, trust me. Trip is a more appropriate designation than Mister. Okay?"

T'Pol stared. Her lip curling slightly.

"How often can I expect your name to change?" She growled.

"Never." He said, decisively. "You're free to call me whatever you like, good or bad. But I promise my name will be Trip for the rest of my life."

T'Pol considered that for a moment. And amazingly, seemed to be considering quite a lot of things that she could call him, by the look on her face.

Amazing in the sense that he could so easily _see _it.

"Very well, Trip."

"Okay, so…what were you about to say before?"

T'Pol spared him a good long look of disgust, once reminded that he'd interrupted her. Then moved to the door of the infirmary, triggering the lock.

"I was going to inform you that I intended to speak openly. Perhaps more so than you might be accustomed to from me. In most part to ensure there are no otherwise avoidable miscommunications, as have already proven to be an obstacle between us."

She moved across the room, toward the plastic sheeting that dividing it from the treatment room.

Well…'speaking openly' didn't sound all that bad actually…in fact…

"Okay. That sounds good."

"Very well." T'Pol nodded, then sought and found the sliding partition in the doorframe, pulling it out and across the room to close off Hoshi and the physician completely. With a 'snick', she flipped the lock into place there as well.

"Since we are going to die soon, I have determined it best that we accelerate our mating schedule. There are many behaviors that I would prefer to experience prior to death. Unfortunately, situational and time constraints prevent addressing most of them. So I have limited choices at my disposal."

She was moving toward the examination bed now, snatching up, literally, some kind of silky green linen along the way. She threw it roughly onto the bed.

"At this time, there is one that is of greatest relevance to me. We will address that now."

Trip already kinda sorta had an idea what she was talking about…but when she starting taking her pants off, it still shocked the hell out of him.

* * *

><p>Trip ran the tip of the sterilizer rod carefully along the long, green gash in her calf. It was kinda weird and funny…and maybe ironic somehow…that the fact that her blood was green made the whole thing a lot easier. That and how Vulcans don't really bleed all that much, lacking blood pressure anywhere near what Human were used to…<p>

He probably would have got sick by now if it was some bloody, cut up Human leg he was poking around at. But since it wasn't, and the green blood didn't gross him out for some reason, he could focus on getting the job done.

Well, except that he had to be so careful. The sonic cleanser thing tended to vibrate and the sterilizer rod…well, you really had to get it down into the wound to do any good…

"Trip, while it would otherwise be an acceptable sentiment to prefer not to do your mate harm, in this case that would be best served and conveyed by cleansing the wound properly."

Trip sighed. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. Kinda hard to get over that."

"I recommend thinking of these procedures in terms of your work in engineering. Many of the materials you work with can absorb significant impact and wear. As such, I assume you are less tentative when working with those. Consider that my body, while pliable and able to sustain injury easily by comparison, possesses a quality those materials do not. It is self-repairing. Consequently, any minor harm you do in the pursuit of major repairs will self-correct later. Your focus then can more productively be centered upon sterilization, removal of foreign matter and resealing the flesh soundly. Rather than avoiding insignificant amounts of additional injury that will correct themselves in the course of the unimpeded healing you have made possible."

Trip looked at her with surprise. That was one hell of a way to put it.

He turned back to the scratches and gouges…and bite marks…along her legs. "Are you sure it won't hurt you?"

"It will. But pain is illusory. I will ignore it."

Trip tilted his head a bit, accepting that. Well, if you say so, lady…

Okay, so…he returned the sterilizer to the wound he'd just cleaned so badly, running the rod _all the way _down in there now and _scraping _it roughly down the entire length. Slowly, too. Just to be sure. It probably hurt like all hell but he could be certain now that he'd gotten it everywhere in there he'd needed to.

And she didn't so much as twitch. So…he'd just have to pretend her leg was numb or something. Not think about how it must have felt like getting cut all over again…

"Explain why this disturbs you."

Trip frowned. "Well…"

How the hell to explain that? "It's kinda like…if I care whether you're hurt or not, I'm kinda going to feel it myself when I do something that hurts you. In fact…it'll hurt _more _the more I care about it. See what I mean?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at that. Reclined comfortably…well, relatively…on the exam bed, one arm behind her head for support, Trip had to admit she looked…

Well, God. Pretty damned good. He couldn't put a finger on exactly why…but damn she looked good laying there. Like a supermodel laid out for a full page spread.

Whatever you're advertising, lady, I'll take a dozen.

If it weren't for the blood and all, he could do this all day. No problem. In fact…yeah, he could do this all day. Every day of the week. Twice on Sundays.

"You are speaking of emotional pain." She said.

"Well, yeah." He said, thinking it over. "But kind of physical, too. There's a physical discomfort…pain, really…that goes along with it. Like when I know I hit a spot that had to hurt like hell…I feel it then."

"_Tilek svi'khaf-spol t'vathu - tilek svi'sha'veh_." T'Pol said, quietly.

Trip looked up again. "What's that mean?"

"The spear in the other's heart is the spear in your own." She said. After a pause, she elaborated. "Essentially, it indicates…"

"No, no. I get it. That sounds religious or something."

"It is a wisdom attributed to Surak. But I think it is not entirely relevant here. It speaks to external acts of destruction being self-destructive. Not necessarily what you describe."

"So you know what I mean, though. You'd feel the same way if it was me laying there, right?"

"No."

"Right, so…" Trip said. "…wait, '_no_'?"

"No. I would not feel the sympathetic physical pain you describe. Unless we were bonded. Then I would feel _your _pain, though to a lesser degree. It would not be sympathetic or empathetic. It would simply be perceived. Or, perhaps more accurately, mutually experienced."

"Well, what would you feel if it was me lying there and you were doing this? Since we're _not _bonded but just mated. I mean you'd feel something, right? When you had to hurt me to get the wound clean, for example."

"I would suppress failure and frustration. Failure because my worth as your mate is measured by how I attend your needs. Causing you pain would indicate failure. Frustration because I would recognize that properly caring for you required cleansing the wound thoroughly, thus negating the possibility of rendering care perfectly. That is, without causing pain."

Trip pondered that for a moment.

"Huh." He said, returning to his work. "It's kinda funny though how we're so different and so much the same, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we fall in love. You guys bond. I feel…'sympathetic pain'. You feel…whatever you call that. It's like everything different between us…Humans and Vulcans, I mean…it's still just something different that accomplishes the same thing."

"Like your blood. It's green and copper-based. Doesn't convey oxygen to your cells in any way like ours does. But it's still blood. Does the same thing. Just in a radically different way."

T'Pol considered that. "You realize, Trip, that most of these reactions we are discussing have formed as a result of our upbringing. Essentially we are taught, and learn, these reactions. Therefore, they are not necessarily Human or Vulcan."

Trip focused most of his attention now on sealing the gash he'd been working on. Making sure it was good and solid.

"Well, I'm not a sociologist or anything but I bet if we looked into it, we'd find both those reactions are taught and learned because they serve a purpose exclusive to whatever species we were looking at. And besides, love and bonding aren't taught. That's definitely hard-wired."

"I assumed love was a learned behavior."

"Pretty sure not." Trip said. "Or…"

He stopped working again.

"Actually, I guess kinda sorta. I know in infancy if you don't receive physical affection from other people you have a hard time forming any kind of attachment or empathy with others later in life. But I kinda get the impression that love is still hard-wired, you just have to learn to _use _it. Or let it happen, recognize it, something like that. Does that make sense?"

T'Pol thought about that as he continued his treatment.

"If our young do not receive significant psychic stimulation through touch during certain early developmental stages, bonding later in life can be rendered impossible. Such individuals are typically extremely maladaptive and often incapable of exercising adequate emotional control."

"Psychic contact through touch is required to establish a bond, whether a familial or mating bond. If touch is withheld in infancy, familial bonds do not form. Mating bonds seem to require the prior exercise of forming and maintaining familial bonds."

"See? That's what I mean. We're talking about two totally different ways of doing the same exact thing. Touch teaches us to empathize with other people. You just plug right into them. But it's the same thing in the end."

Trip juggled the dermal sealer along his fingers, deftly spinning the…whatever that was called…to take it's place, ready to get the tissue along that gash to knitting up a bit ahead of schedule. Not enough to force the matter, since it knew what it was doing better than he did. Just enough so she could walk on it without messing up all his work.

He was starting to get the hang of this. And, you know, a doctor wasn't really all that different than an engineer, if you got right down to it. Except he could build the things he worked on almost from scratch. Not too many doctors could build a whole person out of bits and parts that might be laying around…

"When I was very young, my mother was bitten by a _ch'kariya_."

Trip gave her an interested glance before focusing on the bite mark that was next on the list.

Just enough so she'd know he was listening, but not enough to make a big deal out of it. Because this already sounded like something she wouldn't normally talk about.

"It had killed a _kal'ta _plant in the garden, so I trapped it, intending to release into the wild the next day. My mother found it and released it then, deducing what had occurred. It bit her leg very deeply when it fled."

T'Pol took a deep breath, shifting to a more comfortable position on the bed. She was completely lost in the memory, practically unaware that he was digging dirt out of yet another open wound.

Trip couldn't help but be a little awed at the vulnerability and beauty of that.

"I was young, and so, very undisciplined. Meaning I was often ruled by emotion. So in this case. I was overcome with irrational guilt, believing myself responsible for her injury. As much as if I had inflicted it, and not unintentionally as the _ch'kariya_ had, but with malice and premeditation."

"My father tended to the wound in the garden, while I was sent into our home to meditate. Both my mother and father were aware, through our bond, of the aberrant emotion I suffered."

"I realize now why they were nevertheless unaware that I returned soon after, driven by this guilt, to watch my father tend the wound. I felt that I required punishment, and so intended to experience the discomfort my mother did by drawing close enough to share it."

"It seemed strange to me at the time that they did not detect my presence as a result. But I realize now that the intimacy of the act distracted from that awareness. I experienced that as well, and was overwhelmed by it. Nevertheless, it was a source of great comfort. So much so that the guilt was…washed away."

T'Pol was quiet for a time, while Trip continued sealing the bite on her thigh.

"This memory has returned to me many times since then. Always a source of both comfort and confusion. That the act of tending to one's mate in that manner could elicit such profound intimacy, even as it caused such pain."

Trip looked up then, to find her looking back. Probably more deeply than he ever expected her to gaze at him. Or..._anyone_, really, for that matter.

"I understand this now." She said, sedately.


	29. Chapter 28

Malcolm and Travis both turned and made straight for the gaggle of Orion women in the far corner the moment the infirmary door closed behind them.

Then stopped…looking at one another in mild surprise.

"What are you doing?" Travis asked, hands wide.

"What are _you _doing?" Malcolm countered, looking him up and down.

Travis frowned. "I'm going to find Loya and see if I can get the captain some backup."

"Oh." Malcolm said. "Well…I need her to see what we can do about defending this place properly."

"I thought the captain told you to get back to _Seleya_." Travis argued. "And _leave_. Or she'd _fire _you."

"She said _give them the room _or she'd fire me." Malcolm pointed out. "And she was talking to you, too."

"I don't think that's what she meant…"

"Then she should have made herself clear." Malcolm said, stiffly.

The two men stared at each other for a moment.

Travis finally spoke. "So are we staying here or going after the captain?"

"Well, since you're asking me, we should bunker up here. It won't do us any good to get the database if we can't get back to _Seleya _because this level's been overrun."

Travis thought that over. Malcolm knew his business, of course…but he'd rather get a dozen armed men together and go _with _her…

"We're not going to get any of them to go with the captain, Travis." Malcolm said, anticipating him. "If they were willing to go in there, they'd have done it already."

And, yeah. There was that.

"Okay, fine. So what do we do then?"

* * *

><p>They found Loya not with the women, but hanging around with the men near one of the doors. From the looks of it, she was standing guard with them.<p>

It wasn't until then that Malcolm realized she wasn't dressed or outfitted at all like the other women. Like the men, she wore an armored vest and had a military-grade phase rifle slung from one shoulder. She even had a shirt on under her armor, where most of the men didn't even have that. And pants and boots on as well.

Orion women _never _wore all that. They were doing well if they managed to cover up their naughty bits. And even then it seemed those small bits of clothing were only there to support all the strings and lacy whatnots dangling from them.

Getting her away to talk wasn't hard at all. As soon as the Orion men realized what he wanted to talk about, they practically threw her at him.

"I don't think the men will do that." Loya was saying. "They will only stay here and protect the women. They're not going to leave them alone, even to go outside this area."

"Loya." Malcolm admonished. "They won't be able to protect them if a score of crazy people break through…"

"Yes, I know." Loya said, frustrated. "Everyone knows that. We keep telling them that."

"Well, then why…?"

"It's Seya. She's a stupid girl. She won't let Nallin send the men away, even to fortify the perimeter. Or to make patrols. Or even to hold the choke points. So Nallin won't let them go."

"What's Seya got to do with it?" Travis asked, confused.

"It's a bloody _Orion _thing." Malcolm said, scowling.

"Yes. Nallin will do whatever Seya wants. And the men will obey Nallin until their women decide he should not be in charge."

"So we need to get the women to replace Nallin?" Travis asked.

"That is already happening." Loya said. "Elleya and D'Nell are fighting about it now. And Mara, I think. They are very strong and have strong men. One of them will win and then they will replace Nallin. Or someone will take him away from Seya. Because they might have to kill him if they don't. Because Seya is very stupid and will make him fight about it."

"How did Seya ever get Nallin in the first bloody place?" Malcolm asked.

Loya shrugged. "I do not know. She must have been very lucky. Nallin is a good leader. I know D'Tella wanted him and was going to have him. But I think she found love with one of the other men, so she didn't want Nallin anymore. So maybe Seya took him before any of the others realized D'Tella did not want him."

Travis looked completely lost. Malcolm just rubbed his forehead, frustrated.

"How long is all this going to take to shake out?" He asked.

"A few hours, I think. Or less. But it doesn't matter. We only have to survive until help arrives."

Malcolm's attention snapped back to Loya then. "Help? Who did you call for help?"

"The Starfleet." Loya said. "That is what the law says to do when something like this is happening. I think they will arrive before all of this trouble is finished."

* * *

><p>"You should let me go first." Loya said breathlessly, moving ahead. "Nallin put some men by the airlocks, to guard your ship."<p>

Malcolm and Travis found themselves hurrying to keep up with her. She was practically jogging.

"Guards?" Malcolm asked, squinting at her.

"Yes. So none of the others would take the ship away before he could."

"He was going to steal our ship?" Travis exclaimed.

"No, no." Loya said, frowning at him. "Seya did not want to leave. But she could change her mind. So he wanted to be sure it was not taken by one of the others first."

"But…!" Travis said.

"Alright." Malcolm interrupted. "So how do we get past them?"

"I will go first." Loya said, as if he were stupid. "That is what I said."

* * *

><p>"Taman!" Loya called ahead, waving them both back as she ran forward. Malcolm and Travis slowed down, letting her speak to the men alone.<p>

Malcolm could hear her clearly from where they were, though. Being Orion, she wouldn't see any point in being modest…

"You have to do a favor for me!" She said to the man.

"What favor?" Taman asked, frowning.

"You owe me from last week!" Loya said quickly. "I'm going to have these two but I don't want the others taking them away to spite me. So they want to do it on the ship."

"Nallin said no one goes on the ship, Loya!" The man warned.

"That is why it is a favor, stupid!" She barked back, shoving him roughly.

The other three men in the room were already laughing.

"How much did you pay them, Loya?" One of them mocked. "Taman will do it for free, if you tell Shona he was very good!"

Taman snarled at the man before pushing Loya away again. "Find somewhere else. Nallin said no one."

"_Please_, Taman! There _is _nowhere else. The others will come and take them, so they can laugh at me."

Taman frowned all the more. And grumbled in frustration.

And now the other men were jeering at him in disapproval.

"Let her have them, Taman, you stone-hearted bastard! When will we have Humans around here again?"

"Yes, if she goes another month without some meat, she might beat Karim up again!"

"She didn't beat me!"

"Yes, she did! We saw!"

"_Shut up!" _Taman barked, then turned back to Loya. "Fine, then. Go have them. But make it quick! If Nallin finds out I won't take the trouble for you! I'll tell him you lied to me! He's _your _brother. So _you _take the trouble!"

"I will!" Loya grinned. "I promise!"

* * *

><p>Loya stepped aside once they entered the cargo bay.<p>

"Do you know how far we have to go before we don't go crazy?" She asked.

"We're not leaving." Malcolm said.

Loya gaped in surprise.

"But, you _said_…!"

"We're not leaving the captain behind." Travis said firmly, as he followed Malcolm past her. "And Hoshi's too hurt to move."

Loya just stared in shock, watching them snatch open the lockers on the wall. Most of the gear fell at their feet or was tossed aside. But they were grabbing weapons, at least.

"But…we cannot stay here! We will go crazy, like the others!"

"Then we'll just have to do this quickly." Malcolm said, giving her a hard look. "So we can get that database off your station quickly."

Loya bounced on her heels a bit, wringing her hands in worry. "This is _bad_. We should leave here, not go and fight the crazy ones."

But they were ignoring her. So she threw her hands down with a growl.

"Fine! But we need long beam phasers! And _tactical _explosives! The corridors are not wide. And we need strong close fighting weapons, ones that can do great damage quickly. Like jungle blades! And do you have riot shields or foam barricade grenades?"

Travis kept digging through the gear for anything that looked like it might keep him from getting eaten.

Malcolm, however, was staring at Loya.

Who the hell _was_ this woman anyway?

* * *

><p>Nallin was waiting for them outside. With a half dozen of his thugs. And a <em>new <em>woman hanging all over him. Seya was nowhere to be seen.

"Loya!" He bellowed. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I was getting gear for these two." She said defiantly. "So we can help the Vulcan get the database away from here. Because Seya is stupid! And _you _are stupid!"

Nallin scowled. "This is not the time to test me, Loya. Don't think I won't send you down to the crazy ones! Sister or not, I have to keep order here!"

"Nallin." Malcolm spoke up, trying to calm him. "We're not asking you to commit any men. Or do anything at all. Just let us help the captain."

The woman hanging from Nallin's shoulder draped herself even more fully over him.

"What is happening, love? What are these Humans doing?" She worried.

Nallin grumbled. "They want to go after their captain and get killed with her!"

"But they are trying to take that awful thing away, aren't they?"

"Yes, D'Nell. But they will rouse the crazy ones to try to break in here again."

"Make them stay and protect us, Nallin!" The woman whimpered. "We're very afraid!"

Nallin soothed. "Do not worry, my flower. My men will protect…"

"This is stupid, D'Nell!" Loya exclaimed. "All we have to do is take the thing away…"

"_Don't dare speak to me, k'vesk!" _The woman hissed, her entire demeanor changing instantly from pitiful whimpering to snarling disgust.

Even Malcolm blinked at the sudden change.

Nallin snapped at Loya instantly as well. "You know better, Loya! Watch who you speak to, damn you!"

Travis was turning from one to the other, trying to keep up with what was going on. But…

"_What's going on?" _He whisper to Malcolm.

Malcolm started to answer, having just started to figure it out himself…but changed his mind.

"_It's…complicated."_

Travis thought about it for a moment.

"_Should…should we start shooting or something?"_

"_Not yet…just wait…" _Malcolm whispered back.

"…and I don't care!" Loya was yelling. "Send me to the crazy ones! That is where I'm going already!"

"Not with these men! They will stay here and help us defend!"

"They are _mine_! They will go where _I _say!"

"You _have_ no men, you stupid _k'vesk_!" Nallin roared. "These men will _stay_!"

Loya suddenly stopped yelling back.

She was staring at her brother now, her jaw dropped.

Completely shocked.

Then she began to tear up, her chin trembling slightly.

"You said you would never call me that, brother." She said, quietly.

Nallin, at least, had the decency to look aghast.

"I…I didn't mean…_damn it_, Loya! You have put me in a difficult position here!"

Loya swallowed forcefully. And wiped the one tear that had escaped her eye.

"Fine. Keep them. I don't care." She said, softly. She turned abruptly and walked away, back toward the boarding area.

Nallin sighed, wincing. "Loya!" He called.

_"You cannot call me that anymore!_" Loya cried, running away now.

Malcolm wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. He _suspected_, but he wasn't completely _certain_. Until he realized the woman at Nallin's side was sneering. Watching Loya run away in tears.


	30. Chapter 29

Trip was more than a little dreadful when the Orions sealed the maintenance hatch behind him. Not only because that meant he was stuck out _here_…with, potentially, two hundred plus homicidal maniacs lurking in the shadows…ready to jump out and eat him…

But also because it meant he was stuck out here with _her_.

_Alone _with her.

Because, though she'd been amazingly open and intimate when he'd been patching her up before…and really, she had been. It had been kind of incredible.

He'd had girlfriends in the past. Lovers, if you wanted to get right down to it. Just a couple of them, maybe…but those relationships had lasted for a good while.

And so of course there'd been times when just sitting around talking or even just doing some normal, mundane little thing alone together would, somehow, some way, end up being way more intimate than sex.

But he'd just never felt that close to someone, that quickly. And for it to have felt so…_right_…had just amazed him.

He'd kept having to remind himself he'd only really known T'Pol for a few of days. And it hadn't been as if they'd spent any kind of quality time together during all that time. Hell, they just started officially _dating_…or mating, or whatever…what, a couple of hours ago?

So it'd really been something. And he really hadn't wanted it to end.

But it had.

And apparently any warm, fuzzy feelings she might have had about him got left on the floor back in the infirmary or something. Because the effects of the spatial distortion on her emotional controls were back in full force.

She'd turned into a raging _bitch_.

"Mr. Tucker." She growled. "_Focus_."

And what the hell happened to 'Trip' anyway?

"Every moment you remain staring at the walls as if you have suffered a brain injury represents further opportunity for the hordes intent on murdering us to happen upon us…."

"Alright, T'Pol." Trip sighed. "Ease up. Jeez."

T'Pol _growled_.

"If you find my demeanor disagreeable, then I suggest using that as impetus to propel you _forward_. So that we can retrieve the database and dispose of it without further _pointless delay_."

Trip just did what he did with every other female in his long, difficult life who had made it their personal mission to share their misery with him. He did his best to ignore it until it went away.

He moved ahead…

…and found T'Pol grabbing his arm forcefully. Gripping it _hard_, snatching him in place before he'd even taken a full step.

"What the hell happened to moving _forward_?" He snapped, casting a meaningful glare at the claw she had dug into him.

"I also told you to _focus_!" She hissed.

She let go then and pointed at…or rather, _jabbed _a finger in the direction off…the thin steel plate laying on the floor. Seemingly having fallen there at random, or left by some maintenance worker in the past who'd been too lazy to pick up after himself.

Well, what the hell? _He _didn't work here. _He _hadn't left it laying there. What, was he supposed to be cleaning up the place as they moved along? What was all that about 'pointless delays'?

"What…?" He started to ask…then noticed the thin filament attached to it. The one running up along the wall and into the fiber board along the ceiling right above them.

Well, now. That was interesting.

Since she'd let go of his arm, he moved forward again. Carefully, this time. To get a better look.

"Stop!" T'Pol hissed again. "It is a trap! Are you _blind_, Mr. Tucker?"

"Yes, I _know _it's a trap." He said. "I'm checking it out."

That set her back to growling at him. And baring her teeth.

"I'm an engineer. Isn't this what you brought me along for?"

"Perhaps I should have left you with the _Orions_. There at least you could busy yourself falling victim to their _seductions_, rather than stumbling about trying to make enough noise to attract attention _here_."

And of course that was about the tenth time she'd brought _that _up. She was going _out of her way _to bring it up.

Well, he'd had enough of all that.

"You know, if you'd stop bitching at me for five damned minutes that would probably cut down the noise level around here by half."

He'd pretty much expected her to flip out then. But he couldn't help it.

So she really surprised him by seeming to relax a bit in response.

Never mind that he was pretty sure she mumbled something about cutting _him _in half.

He turned his attention back the danger at hand. The _other _one.

After a thorough examination, and a little poking and prodding at the fiber board overhead, he had the canister exposed.

"Well, it's not a very clever trap." He said, half distracted with his work. "Just a plate set to trip this thing when you step on it. Don't know what that is in there that was supposed to spray down on us, but I'd bet it's…oh, wait…yeah, got an ignition source here. So probably flammable."

T'Pol appeared at this side then, watching him work over their heads. He remained focused, though, as ordered, until he was certain the trap was completely disabled.

Because he wasn't sure whether he'd find it more infuriating being set on fire or having to listen to her bitch about it.

He turned his frown her way, to tell her it was safe to move on again.

And she was…_smiling _at him.

Just a little. Barely noticeable. Just a very slight uptick at the corners of her mouth.

But for a Vulcan…she might as well be wetting herself with joy.

"Trip." She said, softly.

And what the hell? Now it's 'Trip' again all of a sudden?

"This reminds me of our first encounter. Aboard the _Hannibal_. Do you remember?"

He just stared at her, while she turned her blissful attention back to the canister up there.

Was she _trying _to drive him crazy? Because…

"It is also ironic that the trap you set involved a fire extinguisher, while this one was intended to combust."

She turned her eerily tranquil attention back to him again then…and reached out to stroke his arm affectionately. The same one she'd snatched a claw into a moment ago. Nudging him along with her in the process, as she continued down the maintenance shaft.

* * *

><p>Malcolm found her just beyond the infirmary door, leaning up against the wall a little down the corridor. She had one foot propped up against the wall behind her, with her arms folded comfortably across her chest. She looked up from whatever she was thinking about as he approached. At least she'd stopped crying.<p>

There was a strange buzzing noise coming from down the corridor, he noticed. As if someone had left a vid on down there tuned to a dead station. He couldn't see what it was at a glance and he was more concerned with staying on top of what was going on over _here _anyway.

"What is your name?" She asked, before he could think what to say to her. "I did not ask you before."

"Uh…Malcolm. Malcolm Reed."

She nodded. "Malcolm Reed. The physician, Harish, says that he is done with your woman. She is sleeping and you can remove her from here if you let her sleep for an hour."

She pushed off from the wall, moving to stand in the center of the corridor, watching the far end where the noise was coming from.

"He is very good." She said. "I think she will have no troubles, if you are careful with her."

Of course that all sounded well enough. And he was happy to hear it. But the way she'd worded all that…her grasp of English Standard wasn't perfect, he'd noticed…and maybe he was misinterpreting as well…but all that sounded a little like she had the wrong idea there.

"Hoshi seems to be a fine crewman." He said, properly. "She only joined us recently, haven't really gotten to know her very well. But I'm glad she's going to okay."

Loya looked back at him, considering him for a moment. As if she understood perfectly well what he was trying to deny.

"She doesn't want to have you?" Loya asked.

Malcolm couldn't help but be a little shocked. She was Orion, of course, so he _shouldn't _have been shocked. They did have a nasty habit of just throwing it out there like that.

"I wouldn't know." He said. After taking a breath. "We've hardly had time to…well, we've been rather busy…"

He cleared his throat. "What I mean to say is, I rather haven't time for that sort of thing."

Loya nodded, understanding. "Yes. She wants the other one."

As if that was anything at all like what he'd just said.

And how would she know, anyway? He was pretty sure she hadn't even seen Hoshi in a conscious state yet.

And why was _everyone _making a point of this? He liked Hoshi well enough. Found her attractive and all. But he was hardly pining away for her like some grade school crush. Why did everyone keep…?

Look, let's just get the subject on a proper track, shall we?

"Loya, I think…"

"He is from a different race, isn't he? You should use that. It should be easy to push it between them. Then maybe she will want you."

Malcolm blinked. What? And _what?_

"Uh…no, Travis is Human. What do you mean?"

And he didn't care for this conversation at all. This was _not _what he'd come over to discuss.

It made him…_uncomfortable_.

"He is different." She said, gesturing vaguely at her face.

Who? Travis? What was she on about…_oh_…

"A different _sub-species_, you mean?"

She frowned. "That is what I said."

"No, no. Our people…well, we breed with a fair amount of freedom, in that regard. We're all rather a mix of this and that, really. I imagine that hardly matters to her."

And that was quite fine with him, thank you.

Getting romantic advice from an Orion. He had to admit that was funny. They were rather cut-throat about everything, most especially _that_. He was sure this woman probably considered such a…_dishonorable _tactic…perfectly acceptable. Respectable, even.

He still didn't want to talk about all this.

"Loya…"

"I don't want blue men." She said, thinking aloud. Still facing down the corridor, talking to him over her shoulder.

"What?"

"Some of us are blue." She explained. "I don't want them. Or maybe I have not met one I want. I like the green much more."

"Well, it doesn't really matter." Malcolm said quickly. Before she could drag on with this conversation. "I don't think I want to get involved in a romance aboard ship."

Loya shrugged. "Then it is good that she wants the other one. Then she won't take _you_. Unless she wants two?"

"Not really our thing, so much." Malcolm said stiffly.

Loya nodded quickly. "Yes. I forgot. Humans don't like more than one."

Well…that wasn't _exactly _true. Not across the board or anything…

Maybe that wasn't _his _thing but some people did…

And bloody hell. Change the subject, Malcolm!

"Loya, we need to talk about…"

"I am _k'vesk_." She said. "Do you know this word?"

She still hadn't turned around to speak, which just made him wonder if she was being detached or if that buzzing noise down the corridor really did require that much attention.

"No. I can't say I'm all that familiar with the language." He said.

"It is Low Orion." She said. "I think there is no word for it in the High. It is a…um…sickness, I think. In the genetics. I don't smell right."

Don't…what?

"I cannot take men. You see? That is why I am not allowed to be with the women. Or speak to most of them. So I stay with the men. And I join the guards because I can't take a man to care for me. I have to make money to eat and to buy things that I need."

"You mean…you're talking about the pheromone thing?"

"Fair-_moan_?"

"The…_smell_…that the females…"

"Yes, that."

"Ah." Malcolm said.

And, really, what was he _supposed _to say to that?

But then it suddenly occurred to him…that is, he fully _realized_….

"Bloody hell." He grunted. "I can't imagine…that must be…"

Well, he couldn't quite find the word for it. But he imagined...living as an Orion, a female, in an Orion society…and not even being able to…

"That is why I am not happy here."

Not surprising in the least, he thought. It must be absolutely terrible.

"I can get food from men sometimes. And sometimes sex. Especially the Humans. But they don't stay, even when I want them to. Mostly I don't have one. Except the guard. They are my friends, some of them. And my brother cares for me sometimes."

"I'm…sorry to hear that, Loya…"

"So, if I can help you with the crazy people and the database, your captain will take me from here?"

_What?_

"Uh…Loya…"

"Because I am very good. I fight very well."

"Loya, I don't think…"

"You had another man. Vulcan, I think, too? But he died? I can take his place."

How…_how did she know about that?_

"Your captain will see." Loya nodded, deciding. "And you will be a good assistant."

Wait…_what?_

"You are very skilled. I see it. I notice things."

Malcolm just stared.

"We will talk to her when she returns." Loya said, confidently. "But you should go to get the other one. Travis. The crazies are almost finish with cutting in the wall."

Wait, what?

"There." She said, seeing his expression. She pointed down the corridor. "You see? The sparks."

And, looking, Malcolm could see they'd almost cut through. Enough that sparks had indeed starting showering into the hall.

He probably would have noticed that before, if he hadn't been so bloody distracted.


	31. Chapter 30

They'd come the full length of the maintenance hall, down one level through some sort of laundry and up again through another, shorter maintenance shaft. Trip had cleared all of the traps and hazards he'd found, plus the two or three T'Pol had spotted before he did. Trip had starting being impressed by then. He supposed that wandering around here, without anyone to kill, the crazies had been forced to get creative.

The worst trap was probably the pool. Because it was one of the simplest, and the one that almost got them. The crazies had just cracked open a water pipe and tossed a live electrical line on the floor. That was it. He'd only _just _spotted the danger before they had both gone sloshing right through it.

The only one that _did _get them…or got _him_, anyway…was probably the nastiest. Broken glass and waste, whether Human or Orion he couldn't tell, had been strewn outside the last maintenance hatch they'd exited. And the floor right in front of it had been sloshed liberally with silicone lubricant. That was it.

Being the first one out of the hatch he'd slipped, fallen and landed on his back right in the middle of all that mess. Of course the armored vest had caught the worst of it, sparing him that at least. But he hadn't been wearing a helmet or anything.

T'Pol nearly had a nervous breakdown and spent a few minutes fretfully picking contaminated glass fragments out of his scalp. Then the next few bitching at him for causing so much trouble. Then a few more reminding him that he stank.

Now, though, they'd practically reached the security station. All that remained was crossing the open lounge in front of them and waltzing right inside.

The thing was…they still hadn't seen a single one of the crazies.

"Well, I'm not the soldier here." Trip said quietly. "But tell me this isn't a trap."

"It is a trap." T'Pol said.

Trip ducked a little, weaved a bit, searching the lounge ahead, trying to get a look at all the angles in there.

"I can't see anything. And I can't hear anything. You really think they're that sneaky?"

"I think it is the logical assumption to make."

And, huh. She almost sounded like her old self there...

"If you don't remove yourself and the lingering odor of feces from my presence, I will gauge the danger ahead by throwing you into it."

Alright, well never mind then.

Trip thought the situation over for a moment. As he stepped to the side to give her a bit more room.

"You know, it's not too late." He said. "We could just go back and evacuate everyone on _Seleya_."

"I will not have Orions on my ship." T'Pol snarled. "They will try to _take _it."

"Okay. But we _are _talking about saving their lives, T'Pol. I think that's worth…"

"Their lives are not my concern."

Trip furrowed his brow at that one. "T'Pol that's…that's pretty cold. I know you Vulcans aren't big on emotion and all…"

"They have leaders of their own. My responsibility is to my ship and my crew. _That is all."_

Trip decided then and there…to hell with it. He had to know. And, what the heck, why not now?

He had to work up the nerve first, though. Which took a second or two.

"What happened to you, T'Pol?" He asked, finally.

And maybe he hadn't spoke loudly enough. Because at first he wasn't sure she'd heard him.

Then she turned and stared at him. And probably for the first time since he'd met her, he couldn't see anything in her eyes at all.

She was very good at hiding her emotions, sure. She was Vulcan, after all. But he'd never seen her eyes actually look dead before. Actually _look _like the lifeless cybernetic constructs they were.

"I lost my world." She said, coldly. "My people surrendered it. And the Humans destroyed it. That is what happened to me."

She turned back to the lounge ahead. Then lifted her pulse rifle to eject, check and reinsert the cell, before slapping the power selector above the barrel fully forward.

"_Seleya _is my world now, Trip. I will not surrender it. Do you understand?"

When it became clear she was actually waiting for an answer, and not simply speaking rhetorically, he nodded.

"Yeah. I understand."

T'Pol nodded back then, still not looking at him. Still focused on the area ahead.

"Stay behind me, within reach. Fire on targets to our rear and flank. Do not fire in my direction. Do as I tell you to do."

Trip took a deep breath, shouldered the phase rifle, and let it out again. Nervously. Shakily. And maybe he wasn't a soldier or anything, but he was about as ready as he was going to get.

T'Pol didn't move right away, though. She remained still for a moment longer.

Then spoke again.

"Trip. There was a man. His name was Koss. He was promised to me when I was young. He was a good man and we served together in the Vulcan Guard. We had already planned our life together. We designed our home, and we named our children. It would have been a good life."

"But he died on Vulcan. When the Humans destroyed Mt. Seleya."

She paused for a little longer still.

Then shouldered the pulse rifle…

"I don't know why, but I need you to know that."

…and moved forward, into the lounge.

* * *

><p>Malcolm could hear fire opening up at the other corridor, so he knew the crazies had managed to break through there somehow as well.<p>

That worried him quite a lot. Because it suggested that the enemy were coordinating their attacks. That required communication and even some measure of discipline. Neither of which he'd assumed they had, from what he'd gathered about them so far.

And even though he'd known roughly what to expect, he still wasn't at all prepared when they came into sight.

The man leading the charge…or perhaps just the fastest of them…was wielding an actual arm. A greenish one, with most of the meat chewed off. But it had long splinters of broken bone driven into it, to make some passing form of mace out of the thing.

He was missing an eye as well, and most of his scalp had been peeled back from his skull, hanging off to the side. And he was naked, showing off every one of the wounds covering his body. Some of them bad enough that he shouldn't have been able to run down the hall, full tilt, screaming like that.

The one right behind him was missing an arm. And Malcolm wondered for a hysterical moment if the one in the lead had taken it from him. And, really, that did seem entirely possible didn't it?

The third, just a step behind and to the right, likewise running at top speed, wasn't screaming. Because he was missing his jaw.

His entire jaw. The lower half of his face. Gone. And his tongue hanging down and wagging as he ran.

Which shouldn't have been possible. Not at all. You can't have your jaw torn off and still run about with your tongue wagging. How was it even hanging there with no jaw anyway?

By the time the first dozen had come into sight, it had only gotten progressively worse from there.

These aren't people, Malcolm thought. They're not even animals. They're monsters, right out of someone's bloody nightmare.

Malcolm hadn't heard that little voice in the back of his head in quite a long time. The one that started gibbering and begging him to please run away. To go hide somewhere. To go right bonkers, scream like a little girl and just piddle himself.

He'd learned right off, the first time it'd popped up and pitched a fit, way back all those years ago. There wasn't anything else to do with it. You just had to start shooting.

So he started shooting. And he was relieved enough that Travis and Loya opened fire as well that he damned near piddled himself anyway.

* * *

><p>Trip hoped that T'Pol had intended to convey, by dropping that little bombshell on him, that she maybe didn't want him to die today or something. Because that's how he took it, and that's what he was by God dead set on not doing right now.<p>

And being relegated to covering her butt, watching the rear and flanks…well, that's of course where they all came at them from.

Trip got a glimpse of how one of the three on the left was missing his face. And how that one over there had been castrated by someone who obviously hadn't any experience with that sort of thing. Because they'd made a total mess of it.

That was enough that some part of his brain decided he wasn't going to pay attention to the details any more here, thank you. Just point and shoot, Trip. No need to take notes, please.

So he just started shooting.

Almost randomly at first, just out of panic. But he mentally kicked himself, dug deep and dragged up all those hours of mandatory weapons training.

It took a split second to grab a hold of his abundant experience in shooting at non-screaming, non-trying to eat your face off targets and jam it on top of _this _situation.

But he finally made it fit and actually started hitting some of them, putting them down before they could grab at him.

"_Riyeht-stau ek'au!" _T'Pol screamed behind him. Gleefully. _Laughing._

And Trip, who wasn't supposed to be paying attention to little details like that, spent a little bit of his attention on that one anyway. Because he'd never heard a Vulcan laugh before. Probably never would again, assuming he survived this.

Of course, he _was going to _survive. Because he'd by God made up his mind to.

But Vulcans laugh in a pretty damned creepy-ass manner, he decided. All warbled and way too forcefully. So he probably wouldn't mind if he didn't hear it again.

* * *

><p>The three Orion men Nallin had sent to reinforce them had stopped long enough to rip up a whole length of seating from the boarding area behind them. They'd probably intended to establish a hasty barricade when they arrived, but the crazies were already nearly on top of them by then.<p>

So Malcolm was forced to sway to the right a bit when they just drove the thing forward like a battering ram. That knocked over the small cluster of crazies that had managed to push through and get right on top of them. But it also left the long strip of chairs dropped right between he and Travis.

Still, it wasn't a proper barricade of any sort but it would at least give a few of them something to stumble over.

They were proving hard as hell to put down, Malcolm was sorry to say. And just as hard to hold back. Even though the entire length of the floor down there was already fully obscured by the dead, and nearly as many had slipped and fallen, to be trampled by the ones behind, they just kept coming.

They might even have filled the corridor up with dead bodies, to perhaps the halfway mark. Then maybe they'd have slowed them down enough that they could keep them at bay.

But there were just too many and they just plowed right through and over everything in their way.

He glanced over at Loya, who was already trying to catch his eye.

It was time.

In perfect unison…and not so much because they'd practiced or anything, but more because they were both moving and acting and fighting as quickly and efficiently as it was possible for a person to do…they both snatched grenades from their belts, activated them and let fly.

* * *

><p>Trip was kind of amazed and, truth be told, pretty damned glad, that some part of him was turning out to be pretty good at this.<p>

That is to say, he wasn't some kind of bad ass gunslinger, like in the movies. But some part of him just knew things. Figured stuff out. Real quick.

And maybe his skill with quantum mechanics had just translated over somehow or something. He kinda suspected that some deep, dark part of him had figured it had better go rooting around in his brain for anything and everything it could use to get good at this, and real quick like. Because it sure felt a lot like when he just sorta _knew _what the right field stabilization variable in the intermix chamber ought to be when you're running at warp 4.5 in a high particle environment.

He had two of them on him, just a step away, and he just sorta knew firing at both of them would take just exactly that much longer than turning and diving behind that desk would. And he'd done the math on it, somewhere deep down inside, at some super-human speed. Comparing probabilities and coming up with the confident result that his survival was just exactly that much higher doing it _this _way than _that_.

So he turned, just exactly _this _much and dove over the table. Keeping his head level and his upper torso only turned just exactly, _precisely_, that much. So he could still fire that last shot he'd allowed for in the solution.

And he kept his focus entirely on making that shot. Because that was more important to the solution than how he landed or how much it was going to hurt if he'd miscalculated and rammed his head into computer screen sitting there.

He made the shot, though. And he stuck the landing, rolling right over and back on his feet on the far side. Still steady enough to fire point blank into the other one, before the other screaming lunatic could get more than one foot up to vault over the desk that was suddenly between them.

And he did it all in less than a half second. Not counting the maybe 1.2 seconds needed for the roll and the landing.

Because, ladies, he was Charles "Trip" Tucker the Third. And he was damned good at math.

* * *

><p>The drawback to grenades in a situation like this was obvious. There weren't too many directions that the shock wave could go. It wasn't like when you're in the field, out in the open. Then it could disperse evenly in all directions.<p>

Here, in the corridor, it pretty much had two to go with. _That _way and _this _way.

So the twin blasts had knocked a few of the crazies flying. Back _that _way.

And all of _them_, here on the line, back the _other _way.

That mattered most for the Orions standing up to fire over their heads from behind. They ended up on their butts a good five feet behind where they'd been standing a moment ago. Malcolm, Travis and Loya were just forced to take a seat and lay down all of a sudden. Because they'd been smart enough to have gotten there first and crouch down before the fighting started, in order to steady their aim.

They were back up again in a heartbeat, swaying a bit and trying to dispel the ringing in their heads as quickly as they could. And even the Orions, bless their hearts, were scrambling around behind them trying to find their rifles and get back in the fight.

And, of course, there was the other drawback to tossing a couple of grenades down a dark corridor. With all the…_material_…readily at hand, the photonic explosion had plenty of fuel to start a few fires with.

They didn't burn long, mostly. What little clothing the crazies had managed to hold onto kept smoldering at least, but the flesh didn't burn for more than a second or two.

It was still plenty enough to fill the corridor with smoke. A pretty nasty, choking smoke at that.

And just thick enough that Malcolm didn't have time to assess the situation and realize they hadn't really gained a lot from all that. The crazies in the back of the pack had just barreled right over the ones ahead and were right top of them before they could fully recover.

He hadn't even been able to shoulder his rifle again before the first one had his hands around his throat.

* * *

><p>So maybe math couldn't address every situation perfectly. Because his figuring had landed him in a corner he didn't know was there.<p>

And proper mathematics required all the numbers, if you were going to arrive at a confident solution. He hadn't seen that one down there somewhere behind _these _three. The one grabbing his ankles and pulling him off his feet.

He hadn't included that som'bitch in his figurin'. So his math was way the hell off.

It did snatch him out of the way of those half dozen hands trying to grab him and rip him apart, though. Even if he was on his back now and didn't have room to shoot in any particular direction that might be helpful.

Chaos theory, then. Unknowable variables and random order. He could do _that _math, too.

Well, not really _math_. You weren't exactly doing math so much as allowing for…

Aww, to hell with it.

Trip rolled hard to the left. Harder. _Harder still_. With every bit of his strength. And that knocked down the three that were already stumbling all over each other trying to get to him. And forced the one on the ground pulling at his feet to twist, too.

They had a big old jumbled mess real quick. And the half dozen others that had been trying to fight their way past each other to join the fun just ended up falling on top of the pile.

So while they all grabbed and pulled and scratched at each other, trying to figure out which one was _him_…and a few of them got lucky, which hurt more than he wanted to pay any attention to just then…he focused on grabbing the leg of the desk in front of him and _pulling_.

And, I'll be damned if he didn't pop right out of there. Just like that.

Which left him crawling as quick as he knew how under that desk and out the other side, while the pile of crazies back there were still busy untangling themselves.

He even still had his phase rifle hanging by the strap at his elbow somehow. Which was awkward and clumsy, but who the hell cared?

That warbling, way too damned loud, creepy-ass laugh was back, though. Right on top of him. So he looked up and found T'Pol grinning down at him.

She'd lost her pulse rifle somewhere along the way. But she had a big stick that someone had stuck a blade on the end of somehow. And she was bloody.

Very, very bloody. Even had it in her hair, stuck out all which way with it.

And maybe she was crazier than a shithouse rat right now. And maybe her wide, jittering eyes were on fire from it all. And maybe she seemed to _really_ be fitting in around here.

But damned if that crazy, creepy-ass laugh of hers wasn't catching.

So by the time she had him snatched back on his feet and gave his hair a violently affectionate shake, he was laughing too.

His was more hysterical than full of sadistic joy like hers. But still and all, they were having a good laugh together. Which was pretty fun.


	32. Chapter 31

T'Pol was getting tired of decapitating these people. It had been fun at first but she was very disappointed with how quickly that had faded.

The last two she tried to open up, grabbing them by the throat and slicing the abdomen while they scratched and pulled at her. She thought that would be fun, too, but they were so crazy that they just kept coming after her, even with their intestines falling out.

In the end, they were pathetically weak no matter how crazy they were. She tossed them about, broke bones, slammed them down, grabbed them and _killed _them without much effort.

But the fact was that she was getting badly wounded in the process. If she could find some way to make the fight enjoyable again she might have prolonged it. Taken her chances. But she was getting to the point where she was just taking too much damage from all this and it wasn't even worth it anymore.

Trip seemed to have gotten into the spirit of things for a while. He'd killed many of them, and seeing him bare his teeth and fire the weapon at them…destroying and burning and killing another and another and another…that had been _very _attractive. And when they had laughed together with the joy of it all, scorning these useless people…that had been very _fun_!

She had loved him very much then. She'd wanted to die with him, laughing at their enemies. To be like that forever and ever.

But he'd since started stumbling and showing signs of disorientation. And, to her infinite disgust, he'd even started crying at one point.

She'd been tempted to beat him and smash his face a little bit then. Either to punish him for being so disgusting or to provoke his wrath once more. Either would have been good. But she remembered that she wasn't supposed to do that for some reason, so she just grabbed him and tossed him into the room. The one they were fighting about. Because she didn't want to bother with trying to remember things right now.

And besides, his face was very nice. She would probably wish she hadn't broken it later. She liked looking at it. Especially when he smiled just a little.

Since there were only three of them left anyway, and it wasn't fun anymore without Trip, she just killed the first two with one blow. She swung laterally and cut the one in half, keeping the swing going up into the chest of the other. She did manage to sever his hand at the wrist in the process. That had made her laugh, because the hand had flown up into the air, spinning in a funny way. He'd wanted to grab and hurt her with that hand, after all.

For the last one, since it _was _the last one, she left the blade in the other's chest and grabbed his head with both of _her _hands. Because that had given her an amazing idea. He screamed at her then, so she screamed right back, right in his face. Mocking him like that was thrilling, but only so much. She knew he was probably too crazy to be humiliated by it at all.

So she just went ahead and _squeezed_. Until his eyes bulged out. And his skull began to crack. And his head finally popped.

That was pretty exciting. She wished Trip could have seen it. He would have laughed and touched her.

But he was being useless right now. So she howled a bit, because it really did feel that wonderful. And to let any of the other crazies lurking out there know where to come and get _their _heads smashed, too.

* * *

><p>Loya was firing at the one with no teeth. And she kept firing until he got close enough to hit. Then she came up a little, swinging the butt of her phase rifle up into his jaw. And it was crazy how she'd fired phaser blasts right into his chest three times without stopping him but <em>that <em>managed to knock him down.

He must have realized he was dead then, because he didn't get back up. Or maybe he'd already been dead, falling over on her, and she just _thought _he was still coming after her.

There were still more behind him though, still coming, so she just focused and fired. Next target, fire. Another target, fire. Fire again, because that one didn't go down. Another target…

On and on. Over and over. And the other guards were firing over her head, over and over. But she didn't think about that. She just kept shooting. Because if she thought about it she might get scared. And if she got scared she might start crying. And then they would get her.

When one of them got close enough to grab Malcolm Reed, that was bad. So she made that one her next target. She hit him but he didn't go down. It just burned and vaporized part of his back. She couldn't get another shot without hitting Malcolm Reed, so she switched back to the next crazy coming for her.

He had three of them on top of him then, and that's when she realized they were tearing his pants off. And that's when she realized what they wanted to do to him while they were killing and eating him. And that was a very bad way to die. So she switched the rifle to her other hand and pulled the knife Malcolm Reed had given her.

It was a very big knife, a jungle knife like she'd said. She only had to take one step over there before she could swing and hit them with it.

That just made them mad, though. And then they were jumping on her.

She really should have let them have Malcolm Reed while she killed the other ones instead. She had probably made a bad decision.

* * *

><p>Trip sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. He still had his rifle but he was too tired to get up and shoot anymore, so it didn't really matter.<p>

He knew he should get up and help T'Pol fight. She'd been kicking butt pretty hard so far, but you never know. One of them could get lucky. They could stab her or even get hold of her and pin her down. That could be happening out there right now, for all he knew.

And it was crazy how that's all it took, when all this time he'd been trying to find the right button to push deep down inside him that would get him going again. He was so damned tired he almost couldn't get to his feet. And he was pretty sure he'd lost a lot of blood, though he was only aware of a couple of good bite marks that were bleeding all that badly.

His legs buckled but he'd somehow managed to stand up anyway. Then he swung the rifle back up in front of him, in preparation for the Herculean effort of actually shouldering it. Finally, he nudged his weight forward to kind of get himself going in the right direction. Hopefully without falling down again.

Maybe he could shoot one of them before he face planted or something. It might even be the one that would otherwise get T'Pol. Heck, you never know, right?

Then T'Pol was there in the door. And there wasn't any more screaming going on outside. He realized then he'd been so focused on getting back up that he'd missed the fact that she'd killed them all already.

That was pretty damned funny. All that effort and he could have just sat there and let her do all the work.

But laughing at that was all the more tiring, and he couldn't do it for more than a couple of seconds before it set off another crying jag in him.

God, he was going to need therapy after this.

He'd kinda wondered if the spatial distortion had finally kicked in and he was going crazy. But he didn't have any particular need to eat anyone or scream for no reason, so he figured he was more than likely just extremely stressed out. Battle stress or something.

I mean, people can't do this sort of thing without going a little crazy, right? And that was pretty funny too, considering who they'd been fighting. I mean, damn. _Everyone _was crazy up in this place.

So he was laughing a little and crying a little when T'Pol stepped over and grabbed him by the vest. He really couldn't stop and didn't think there was much reason too, really. He was so weak and tired that he wasn't exactly putting a lot of effort into it. Just a quiet chuckle and a couple of tears, that was it. So it was no big deal.

He didn't realize until then that she had something in her other hand. Just in time, since he wouldn't otherwise have known what she was shoving and grinding into his stomach like that. Something hard and boxy and plastic. Wrapped in a bloody shirt or something she'd probably ripped off one of the crazies. Her intent was pretty obvious, so he dropped the rifle back on it's sling and grabbed it from her. Just to keep her from trying to pushing it all the way back into his spine, for crying out loud.

When he had it and looked up to meet her eyes, she just shook him by the vest and grunted with frustration.

And, yeah, yeah. He got it. Time to go.

But…he was vaguely curious where in the hell she'd gotten the database from. It was supposed to be in a safe or something, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>Travis was trying not to laugh. Because he knew he'd probably go completely around the bend and never come back if he did.<p>

But, God, Malcolm was laying there, firing a phase rifle at the crazies, with his pants bunched up around his ankles. And never mind _why _they were bunched up down there like that. He'd seen what they'd tried to do to him before Loya had starting hacking on them. It was still hysterical. Maybe more so because of that.

_Literally _hysterical, of course. Which was why he was trying to focus on fighting and _not _thinking about Malcolm laying there shooting with his pants bunched around his ankles. Because that would probably send him completely around the bend, and who knows if he'd ever come back…

And here we go, he thought. Already heading around that bend.

Loya was yelling something at him, he realized. Malcolm had barely managed to shoot the last one trying to drag her off, which just put her lying on her back when she'd gotten free. But instead of getting up and shooting again, she was getting up and yelling at him.

It would be pretty funny if she was yelling at him about how funny it was that Malcolm was laying there, shooting at the crazies with his pants around his ankles…

Travis was still shooting, but he was laughing hysterically now. It was effecting his aim pretty badly, but he was a lousy shot anyway. Still, he hoped he could keep the crazies at bay long enough for those two to get up and out of the way again. They were doing pretty good so far, he thought. But only because the Orions behind him were such better shots than he was.

Finally Loya was up and moving back to the line. And Malcolm was getting up, too. Which required him to take a hand off his rifle and try to pull his pants up. And that was even funnier because he was fumbling around trying to do too many things at once now.

Then all of a sudden one of the Orions behind him was grabbing him by the arm, hoisting him awkwardly to his feet. And then he realized Loya had been trying to tell him to fall back.

Not that it would have mattered if he'd understood the first time. He still would have stayed and covered Malcolm while he tried to pull his pants up…

* * *

><p>Malcolm finally got his pants hiked up again and was able to hustle a bit. He'd nearly got himself buggered and eaten, then barely managed to save Loya from the same fate herself, then had to face Travis slipping off into some kind of hysteria for no apparent reason. The whole situation had gone balls up, all around. So when Loya called a retreat he was ashamed to admit he didn't question it. He just got in line and fell the bloody hell back.<p>

He was glad to see the Orion guards knew their business, though. They didn't run willy-nilly off in all directions. They fell back a bit, then turned to cover the three of them, then fell back again when they stopped to cover in turn.

It was hard to get an orderly retreat out of a unit in the middle of hard combat. That he knew, having had to pull it off himself a time or two. Nallin was back there, barking and tossing off orders, and his guard were being snappy about it. Good show all around.

They were a steely lot, he had to give them that. Maybe not the sort to pal around with but he was suddenly very glad they'd been handy for all this.

He saw T'Pol then, just as he swung about to cover the Orions move. So he didn't get a good look at her, not wanting to take his eyes away and leave the men without covering fire. He saw enough, though.

She'd been practically awash in blood, both red and green. Quite enough of it being her own, judging from the cuts and gouges she was sporting. And Trip was there as well, barely on his feet, clutching something to his stomach and leaning heavily on her. Looking rather a sorry mess himself. T'Pol had practically been dragging him along.

So the reason Nallin had called for them to fall back was obvious. He wanted to relocate to the docks and get the database, and them, the hell off his station.

Loya passed him then, out of breath, running over after having received her orders from Nallin. She managed to slam a shoulder into him to get his attention, being too tired for anything more polite.

"Faster, Malcolm Reed." She gasped, as she passed by. "The Starfleet are here."


	33. Chapter 32

Loya was a little spun about all of a sudden. Because the Vulcan woman was back now, with her Human. And they were both covered in blood and bits.

Nallin had the men falling back into the docks, slowly so the crazies didn't overrun them. Giving D'Tella and Mara time to get the women in there first.

And Malcolm hadn't followed her to the ship like he was supposed to. He turned around and ran away from her. Over past the guard, where the crazies could get him. And Travis had gone with him too, so she didn't have a man at all except for the Tucker one.

He was too bloody. She didn't want to be around him. He looked sick. He wouldn't be able to do _anything _for her.

They were supposed to leave now. They were supposed to take the ship and go away. Before she went crazy. Before the Starfleet came and arrested everyone.

The Vulcan woman then. These were her men. Maybe she would make them behave.

"The men are going the wrong way." She complained, her voice trembling a little. And she did tremble afterward, whenever she had to fight. She always did that.

And this had been such a very bad fight. A very big one. So she was trembling very much.

"We have to leave now, on the ship. Because the Starfleet is here…"

Her ears were ringing before she realized what had happened. She couldn't figure it out for a moment. But now the Vulcan woman had thrust her face very close to hers. And she was staring into her eyes very coldly.

"Get out of my way." She said.

So Loya did. Very quickly. Because she thought maybe the Vulcan woman had gone crazy. Because she was pretty sure she had hit her in the face.

* * *

><p>Hoshi felt like crap. She was floating pretty high on something she suspected wasn't very legal, but she still felt like crap. And it still <em>hurt<em>.

Not so badly that she couldn't stand it. But, oh my God, it ached so much that it was just driving her crazy. All she wanted to do was sleep, thanks to whatever that Orion had given her. But the ache kept her awake.

She kind of remembered what had happened. Getting off the elevator and something hitting her. Or falling on her. Something like that.

Whatever it was must have had a sharp point on it or something because it had apparently stabbed her right through the back. Not a huge devastating wound or anything, thank goodness. But enough that the captain had let an _Orion _operate on her.

So, yeah. It must have been pretty bad, then.

Or maybe pirates don't think much of Orion doctors operating on them. Maybe out here, with this kind of life, that's considered top notch medical treatment.

_That _thought didn't fill her with a whole lot of optimism regarding her future. I mean, sheesh. At this rate she'd be swilling ale with dirty old men in bars and wearing leather tank tops. Smuggling…I don't know…pornography into Vulcan or something.

How in the heck did she end up with a bunch of pirates anyway? She should be in a Human hospital! On Earth! With Human doctors! With aromatherapy and multimedia and some nice flowers on the bedside table.

And this room _smelled_. She was pretty sure it wasn't even a clinic at all! They had _bags _of something stacked over in one corner. And some of the cabinets didn't even have _doors_.

God, she just wanted to go to sleep. She was so _tired_.

Just tired and hurting and _bored_. And discouraged. And it smelled here. And it was dirty. And she just wanted to sleep…

And, oh…whoa…that had been a _dead body _outside the elevator. That is…at least, she was pretty sure…

Oh my God…had she been _shot_? Was that what had happened? She kind of _felt _like she'd been shot. Not that she'd ever been shot before.

Then the door out there opened. So someone was coming to bother her before she could get to sleep.

God, this sucked.

When Travis and Malcolm stormed in, she almost had time to be happy to see them or discouraged that they were there. To figure out which one she wanted to be, that is. Happy or discouraged. They'd been pretty nice to her so far on the one hand. But they were, you know, _pirates _on the other…

Not to mention they'd apparently gotten her _shot_.

"Oh, hey." She said. Not feeling especially decided on the matter.

"Hoshi, we've got to go." Travis was saying. He was out of breath. And he looked shaken.

And Malcolm. He had blood on his jacket. _A lot _of blood.

"Wha…what's going on?" Hoshi asked, concerned.

* * *

><p>It was already bad enough having to get up and <em>walk<em>. Even with two strong men to each side helping out. Because she had _a hole in her chest_! Where she got _shot_!

Stepping out into the middle of a war was just…_crazy_! It was like some kind of bad movie or something. She was all, 'ouch, ouch, be careful, ow that hurts…' and then ZAP! Phaser blasts flying by her head and people screaming everywhere.

There were bodies _everywhere_. Everywhere! Cut and burned and all in pieces. It was like a disaster. Like anti-government terrorists had blown the place up or something. Blood _everywhere_. On _everything_. Smoke and smells and terrifying noises.

"Travis, what's going _on_?"

"Hoshi, just _walk_."

"But what's going _on_?"

"_Hoshi, just walk!"_

* * *

><p>At the dock Hoshi was just beginning to realize some of the people running around back there had been trying to kill people. And maybe some of them had tried to get after <em>them<em>. And been shot dead by the Orions before they could.

But before she could wrap her head around that possibility T'Pol was coming across the dock. Staring right at her. _Hard_, like she was _angry _at her. Coming right for her. And the way she was walking…she was coming to _hit _her. She just _knew _it.

What the hell did _she _do? She was asleep this whole time! Because she got shot!

Then T'Pol grabbed her. Away from Travis and Malcolm. _Jerked _her. And it _hurt_, but she was too afraid to cry out. Even when T'Pol threw her over her shoulder, nearly making her pass out, _swinging_ her around and stomping back to the ship again.

Hoshi wanted to cry. She was scared and hurt and didn't know what was going on. So she wanted to cry. But she wasn't even sure if she should.

* * *

><p>Tucker was there in the cargo bay when T'Pol threw her down. And that <em>did <em>make her cry, because it hurt that badly. Travis tried to stop and help her but the captain grabbed him, then. Grabbed him by the back of his shirt and _dragged _him away.

Malcolm dropped down next to her, to check on her.

"Hoshi, just don't move." He said. "Just stay there and I'll get you something…"

Hoshi had managed to stifle the sobbing that was threatening to take over. But her eyes were still full of tears and she still didn't know what was going on.

So she sobbed just a little bit. Because she really, really needed to. Just a little.

Malcolm was gone then and that just left Tucker in the cargo bay with her. Everyone else was gone. He was just sitting there, on the floor with his back up against a crate. Something clutched tightly to him, in his lap.

"Tucker, what's going on?" She asked, her voice trembling.

"Hoshi." He said, not looking at her. "I'm just…I'm pretty tired. Just…give it a minute."

He sounded tired. More tired than she was. And she somehow just knew that whatever terrible thing had happened while she was asleep, he'd been right in the middle of it. They all had, really. And, God, she wondered how she'd managed to sleep through it all. Because it had to have been incredibly _bad_.

An Orion woman came in then, opening the airlock and cycling it closed behind her. Then she just stood there, starting to turn one way…then another…like she didn't know what she was supposed to be doing. Hoshi watched her standing there, looking lost. Then she suddenly went and sat on the floor behind the crate that Tucker was leaning against. Like she was hiding from something.

She could still see her from there and the Orion woman was looking back at her. She looked scared, her eyes open just a little too widely and her arms pulling her knees to her chest just a little too tightly.

Hoshi wanted to ask her. She almost did, in fact. She could tell the woman wanted to say something. But she just knew she wouldn't answer if she asked. No one had yet. She would try, Hoshi knew, but she wouldn't be able to.

Because it had been just that bad. So bad that no one could put it into words without a lot more effort than they had left in them.

* * *

><p>Travis grunted when T'Pol threw him into the console. But he'd already gotten the message. He knew what she wanted and he didn't really want her to say it.<p>

And that was fine. That was okay. Because he was completely on board with that. Pick a destination, get us the hell out of here. That's what she would have said.

More or less.

So he scrambled into his seat at the navigation console before she'd even left the bridge. Already forgetting her, focused on getting the job done.

He'd have to check on Hoshi later. And Tucker. He'd been back in the cargo bay, too. But right now they were getting the hell out of there. And fast, too, so they could get rid of that damned database. He'd seen Tucker clutching that bundle back there. He knew what that was.

It was evil, that's what it was. And they had to get it _off the ship_.

Navigation up. Skip the diagnostics and short preps. Engines and RSC online, board's green. Pick a place. Terra Nova, the captain had said. So good enough. Chart course, determine bearing and heading, disengaging…

They were clear. Style about…line it up…and we are the hell out of…

"_I.S.S. Victory hailing Vulcan freighter, respond."_

Travis froze.

No. Oh no, no, no.

He checked the sensors…just to be sure. Because there was just no way their luck was that bad. Not after everything they'd been through. There was just no way.

But she was right there. Coming in hard, not even a million kilometers out.

"_I.S.S. Victory hailing Vulcan freighter, respond immediately."_

No. No, we're not going to do that. Because we've got to get rid of that thing and you're going to get in the way.

Travis knew they were already scanning him. And he had maybe five seconds before they identified them. So he had _Seleya _at warp in two. Just to be sure.

* * *

><p>Malcolm had Hoshi calmed down by the time T'Pol entered the cargo bay again. A good, solid dose of that blue stuff Tolaris had stashed in his quarters did the trick. She was already nodding off in fact, surprisingly. But he'd still have to keep an eye on her for a while to be sure it didn't react in some terrible way to whatever else she was already on.<p>

It was a bit of a risk but the poor woman had rather been tossed about quite harshly in the last few minutes. Of the lot of them, she was the only one he expected not to have nightmares especially for the rest of her life. So it was oddly important to him that she not have to suffer everything that was going on just now.

Just the idea of sparing _one _of the crew some horror today, he supposed.

What concerned him the most at the moment though was T'Pol. She was still completely unpredictable, tending rather toward the violent. And she was going to smell the Orion over there behind the crate any moment.

So he was a little surprised and wary when she just stood there in the middle of the bay for a while, staring down at Tucker.

Then, just to be sure she threw him completely off, she kind of wandered over to the steps leading up to the main corridor and sat down heavily, with a good long sigh. To stare at Tucker some more.

After a minute or two of checking Hoshi's pulse and breathing, scanning her occasionally with the med scanner he barely knew how to operate, he was finally forced to assume T'Pol wasn't going to jump up and kill anyone.

"Tucker." He said, turning his attention to him. "How are you doing? Are you alright?"

Trip just stared at the floor for a moment. Almost long enough for Malcolm to decide he'd better ask again. Then…

"Yeah." He said, tiredly. "Yeah, I'm alright. A little beat up, but I'm alright."

T'Pol was still staring at him, with no particular expression on her face. But Tucker didn't seem to notice. Malcolm figured he probably hadn't been able to lift his head up enough to notice what she was doing or where she was looking.

"You got it?" He asked, nodding at the bundle in his lap.

Tucker blinked a few times, only then seeming to notice that he still had the thing cradled in his lap. He pulled the bloody cloth covering it aside, revealing a plain plastic case containing nothing more menacing than a few perfectly normal data discs, lined up in a nice little row.

It didn't look at all like something that would drive people to madness, murder and cannibalism. Malcolm had rather expected all nine levels of hell to come pouring out of the thing.

But it just sat there, looking perfectly normal.

"That's it?" He asked, disbelieving.

"No."

"It doesn't look…"

Wait, what?

"…what?" Malcolm asked. "What did you say?"

Tucker started down at the case in his lap, his brow furrowed. Looking a little surprised. And stunned.

"That's not it."

That _couldn't _be what he'd meant. He _had _to have meant something else.

"It's not _what_?" Malcolm demanded.

Tucker paused. Then took a deep breath, lifting his head up tiredly. A look of utter resignation on his face that Malcolm found exceptionally dreadful.

"This isn't the database."

Malcolm stared. Taking a moment to decide if he was going to go ahead and lose his mind now or not. But that needed an answer.

"Where _is it_, Tucker?" Malcolm exclaimed.

But Tucker had already dropped his head again. And he just shrugged a little. Like he really didn't give a damn all of a sudden.

"I don't know." He said.

Malcolm jerked his attention to T'Pol then.

But she just kept staring at Tucker.


	34. Chapter 33

**_Cataran Mountains, Betazed_**

**(6 months later)**

T'Pol waited patiently for the men to unload themselves from the cargo hauler. There were three of them, all Betazoid. Andrus, who thought himself far more sophisticated a broker than he truly was, was clearly in the lead. And he was wearing his pastel suit, which T'Pol knew he preferred not to get dirtied.

The two hired thugs he brought along, though. They looked far too…disposable for her comfort. And she still suspected there would be at least one other, a sniper, on the ridge up high and to the left…

…a subtle tap on the transceiver in her ear signaled Malcolm had found and neutralized that one, at least. Just in time, of course, since these men had arrived several minutes earlier than expected.

Regardless, assuming the deal went smoothly, then she would find it preferable that they had. It was snowing on this mountain.

She did not find frozen precipitation agreeable at all. And she certainly did not wish to engage in hostilities in such an environment.

Loya moved up a little then, just this side of the three stacked crates she'd been leaning on. Her phase rifle was slung casually from her shoulder, barrel forward, with her hand already on the grip.

Her _other _hand was tucked away in her jacket pocket. Which would otherwise have been an awkward place to have one's off hand, should you find yourself having to wield a rifle quickly.

The men were coming forward then, boots crunching in the snow as they walked up.

"T'Pol." The first man grinned as he approached. "Very good to see you again…"

His black eyes flickered then, likely already searching her mind and finding what had just occurred.

"Ah." He said, glanced up and to the left. Awkwardly.

Then he chuckled, uncomfortable with the situation he suddenly found himself in.

"Hmm…nothing personal, you understand, T'Pol…" He said, hands gesturing widely.

"We are here to conduct business, Andrus." She said. "As I am sure you are already aware."

Not that she expected this particular Betazoid to be ashamed of invading her mind. She was certain he'd left that cultural taboo behind him long ago.

"Yes, of course." He agreed, appeasing. "Not that I expected anything else from _you_, T'Pol. Old habits."

He shrugged, chuckled slightly again and clapped his hands together. "Well, I seem to have lost any form of comfortable bargaining position here. So…"

He turned a sleight frown at Loya suddenly, who still had her offhand tucked in her jacket.

"A grenade? Really, T'Pol?" He seemed almost hurt at that. And nervous, though he attempted not to show that.

T'Pol shrugged a little in return. Not a form of communication she preferred to employ, but it was appropriate here.

Andrus sighed. "Well, as I was saying, let's be about our business and get out of one another's hair, yes? Before anyone gets nervous?"

"I am quite calm, Andrus." T'Pol said. "And also aware that the street value of these items has fallen significantly since last we spoke. Hence your attempt to renegotiate. Nevertheless, we have an agreement in place that I am already comfortable with."

Andrus actually slumped a little. And sighed.

She could see he was merely playing the part, though. Assessing his options, trying to find an angle. He was not as sly as he believed himself to be.

But his position had already been defined. There was no other avenue open to him. So the deal would be done, as they had previously agreed.

* * *

><p>She'd waited outside in the very uncomfortable weather until the men were gone and Malcolm had returned. Then waited a little longer, watching over the area as the crates they'd traded for were loaded aboard <em>Seleya<em>.

"But it was a good position." Loya was arguing, standing aside as Malcolm strained and lifted a crate to his chest.

"From where he was…*_grunt_*…Andrus could have taken cover behind the hauler after the first shot."

"This is why you kill him first. That is the first shot." She pointed out.

"You don't kill the _dealer_, Loya." Malcolm disapproved.

"Then why care if he takes cover?" She asked, following him to cargo door.

"You can't kill the dealer, but you _can _wound him. Under certain circumstances." Then he frowned. "Are you going to grab a crate, love?"

Loya looked around for a moment, confused.

"Oh…no, you get them."

"There are _forty _of them." Malcolm said. "We're going to be here all day. They're not that heavy."

"No." She said. "What are circumstance for wounding the dealer?"

"Loya." T'Pol said, her attention still focused primarily on their surroundings. Watching for trouble. "Help load the cargo."

Loya immediately asserted herself, gesturing at the cargo door where Malcolm had already disappeared. Busy loading cargo, as he'd been ordered.

"He is _mine_." Loya challenged.

"He is my crew. As are you. You will load the crates."

Loya dithered a moment. Unsure whether to do as ordered or argue some more about who Malcolm belonged to.

Then grunted in frustration, stomping through the snow to the pile of crates stacked there.

T'Pol noted that she continued to have difficulty understanding certain work would be required of both she _and _Malcolm. But she at least ceased engaging in protracted arguments over the matter. Which would indicate she had finally developed some trust that T'Pol did not intend to intrude upon her..._territory_.

It would undoubtedly prove difficult for Malcolm to receive any significant affections tonight, having brought the matter to her attention in the first place. But that was Malcolm's concern.

She had other concerns of that nature to occupy her. And having come to mind, those concerns began to occupy her thoughts immediately.

* * *

><p>T'Pol stepped onto the bridge, unbuckling her holster and folding it precisely in order to secure it in the arms locker there. At the navigation console Travis was already preparing the ship for departure, which would indicate that Trip had returned while she had been busy verifying the manifest in the cargo bay.<p>

To her side, at the comm station, Hoshi reported that very thing.

"Trip's back. Got everything on the list, except the _kov-masu_."

T'Pol nodded. "I did not expect he would be able locate a Vulcan trade compound with the little time available to him."

It was regrettable, but of little consequence…

"Oh, he says he did. Just didn't get the _kov-masu_."

T'Pol's eyebrow arched. She would have assumed, had Trip been able to locate Vulcan traders at all, securing a box or two of _kov-masu _would have posed little difficulty. But, again, it was a small matter.

"Very well." T'Pol said, turning to the helm. "You may depart when you are ready, Travis. The cargo is secured."

"Consider us underway, captain." He said, grinning. "Should be clear of Betazed air control in about twenty minutes. Then _hello, Risa_!"

T'Pol's ears twitched a bit when Hoshi squealed slightly at her side. And clapped her hands together. Both irritating sounds to be subjected to at close proximity.

"Woohoo! I can't _wait_!" She exclaimed.

"Fun, sun and good times." Travis grinned. "And _Galartha_! I can't wait to try that. I've got the brochures and everything…"

"You're going to fall off that thing and get yourself killed, Travis." Hoshi warned.

"No, no. They have safety features in place." He denied. "Maybe a broken bone or two. But that's the whole point!"

"Well, whatever." Hoshi snorted. "I'll be on the _beach_, thank you."

"Hey, if you need a dance partner for the thing you were talking about, I'm available." He offered, smiling widely.

"_Before _you go breaking bones, please?"

T'Pol interrupted, lest they forgot there was work to be done.

"We still have forty crates of _t'rarthra _extract to deliver before it expires." She said. "The proceeds of which is the finance this…vacation. More to the point, the supposed anagathic effects are already suspect. Allowing our client to claim it has lost potency due to our delay in delivering it in a timely manner would not be conducive..."

Travis sighed. "Bringing us _down_ in here, captain."

T'Pol considered. Shore leave had not yet begun and would not for some days. But perhaps it would not impact crew efficiency to a discordant degree to allow speculation and anticipation to occupy their thoughts for now.

"Very well." She said. "I will be in the engine room if I am required."

* * *

><p>Hoshi hurried after her. Which should not have been a surprise. She seemed to take every opportunity, even if it were necessary to <em>create <em>an opportunity, to meddle in certain private concerns.

"So how's the bonding thing going?" She asked, bouncing alongside her.

T'Pol suppressed a sigh. But…she lacked any familial association to rely upon here. Perhaps it would continue to prove beneficial utilizing her relationship with Hoshi in that manner.

"No further progress as yet."

"Aww, that's a shame. It's your six month anniversary. It would have kind of been nice if you had picked up on something by now, huh?"

"I suspect Trip continues to harbor resentments."

"You mean about the database? I figured he would have got over that by now. I mean, it's not like you were…you know…completely in _control _of yourself."

T'Pol found being reminded of _that _not particularly agreeable at the moment. Or at any moment. Or at all, ever, in fact.

"I mean, you were really flaking out, from what I hear…"

"It is largely inconsequential." T'Pol said, quickly. "That is only one matter of concern. There also remains his Human drive toward…reproduction. I have proven unable to redirect his frustrations in that area successfully."

"Well, he can't expect you to put out before you've even _bonded_." Hoshi frowned. "And I didn't think he even minded that much, from what Travis told me."

T'Pol _almost _frowned. So he'd been discussing the intimacies of their mating with the other males.

Again.

Despite her having suggested _twice _that this was unacceptable.

"Trip's supposed to be a 'southern gentleman', right?"

"As I understand the term, yes."

"So, okay. It's not as uncommon in some of our cultures as you seem to think, captain." She said. "The whole 'wait until you're married' thing, I mean. Which is pretty much what you have to do, right? Considering where he comes from, I bet Trip even _admires _that, really."

Hoshi giggled a little. "He'd probably never _admit _it. I bet he gives you a hard time, right? I know he likes to flirt until your ears turn green…"

Again, _not _a subject she was especially comfortable with. So she had to change it.

She stopped in the corridor, before they reached a point where anyone else might overhear the conversation, and turned to Hoshi fully. And she stepped closer, so that she could prompt her to _lower the volume _at which they conducted this discussion.

"I have decided to extend to Trip the opportunity to abandon with honor, prior to our meeting tonight."

It only took Hoshi a split second to translate that.

"Wha…you mean you're _breaking up_?"

"Not precisely." T'Pol corrected. "But, as it has become clear he can progress no further…"

"T'Pol, are you sure you want to do that? I thought you were going to stick it out the whole year."

"That would be my preference." She said. "But it would be improper not to relinquish my claim in light of…our continued failure to elicit a bond."

Hoshi wasn't fooled. She knew immediately what that hesitation meant. T'Pol had almost said '_my _continued failure'.

"But it's only been six months." Hoshi argued. "And we kind of had a rough time around here back then, so maybe you just got off to a bad start."

T'Pol hesitated. She would rather not bring it up for discussion but..

"He no longer reads the letters." She said, quietly.

Oh.

And, _oh_.

"T'Pol…you don't think he's…"

"I remain ambivalent concerning them." T'Pol said. "On one hand, they represent a symbol of what Trip and I might hope to attain. But on the other, they remain intimacies communicated between persons that are, in the end, neither myself nor him. And so, in a way, both irrelevant and inappropriate to intrude upon."

"So…you figure that's kind of good and bad." Hoshi guessed. "But mostly he's just not interested anymore."

"Essentially. And, further, they likely continue to remind him of my failure to retrieve the database. Thus my responsibility for the further violence that occurred aboard both _Kohl'ashkar Station _and the _I.S.S. Victory_, as well as Starfleet's success in gaining possession of the data in question. All points of significant personal concern for him."

"Well, captain, that's nuts. I'm sure he's got to appreciate that you decided to take those discs instead. Maybe you were kind of crazy at the time, but…that kind of says something, doesn't it?"

"I do not know _what _it suggests. I remain uncertain of my motives for that decision. I was…irrational at that time."

"Well, what other reason could there be?"

"I…may have intended it as an insult. Or possibly a test of some sort. Feeling…threatened by his high regard for them. And for the alternate T'Pol's that were responsible for their contents."

"You mean…you were jealous? Of _them_?"

T'Pol hesitated.

"Yes." She admitted.


	35. Chapter 34

She found him in the engine room, as expected. Already hard at work installing whatever new engine modification that had prompted his volunteering to retrieve supplies in the city. Because it had allowed him the opportunity to…'scrounge' in the shipyard there, as she had suspected.

"Mr. Tucker." She said, as she approached. "If you…"

"Aw, hell." He replied, pulling his head back out of the engine manifold. "What happened?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He frowned at her, searching her eyes for clues regarding whatever he expected she must be displeased about.

"You only call me 'Mr. Tucker' when you're trying to be detached about something." He said. "And, hey, if this about the _kov-masu_, just give me a second to explain."

"Trip, this does not concern the _kov-masu_. That is a small matter."

"Oh." He said, warily. "Okay. So what's with the 'Mr. Tucker'?"

"A regrettable lapse. I apologize. I wish to discuss something of significant import before our meeting tonight. I have allowed that contemplation to distract me."

"Oh, okay." He said, already distracted himself, peering in to tinker with the engine once more. "So which one is it tonight?"

"Which what?" She asked, turning to dig in the tool box at hand. He would require the micro-caliper in a moment.

"Which mating ritual, I mean." He said, popping back out again. "I forget."

"_Tu'ash katra_." She reminded him, offering him the tool.

He accepted it, grimacing. "Jeez, T'Pol. I was afraid of that. That's a tough one."

Once inside the manifold, he continued to speak as he worked. "_But_…I was thinking about when I was a kid. Maybe fifteen I think. I did something pretty…well, inappropriate with this girl in class. She was a nice girl. Never did say I'm sorry or anything. That bothered me for a long time and I always felt like…"

As she listened, she dug through the tools again. She had difficulty determining which one she was looking for but she recognized it when she found it. She had it ready to offer when he emerged again.

"Well, never mind. I guess I better just save it for tonight." He said, frowning. "So, if I understand how the _tu'ash katra _is supposed to work, that'd make a good topic, right? Oh, hey, thanks. I needed that."

He accepted the tool and went back to work.

"If you believe relating the incident would require a vulnerable and deeply contemplative personal exposition, then it would of course be appropriate. The overall point of the exercise is to elicit intimacy through personal revelation requiring trust on one's own part and acceptance on the part of one's mate."

"So, you think these mating rituals will work?" He asked, nearly hip deep in the engine now. "Some of them are hard as hell. And some of the others are just plain weird. And what were you going use for yours tonight anyway?"

"They have a exemplary reputation for promoting success in mating, Trip." T'Pol said. "That is, in encouraging the formation of mating bonds. And I have not yet made my decision regarding my own topic."

"Really? I figured you'd have yours picked out three months ago or something."

"It may no longer be required."

"Yeah, okay." He said, missing the implication. "Kinda wish we were doing the neuropressure one tonight, though."

Of course, he emerged far enough and long enough to grin slyly at her about _that_.

"That is scheduled for tomorrow evening." She replied, coldly. "As you would know if you had read the…"

"It's right there, darlin'." He said, pointing out from the engine manifold at a spot on the far wall.

And, indeed, the schedule was readily at hand there, tacked up amidst a wide variety of scribbled notes and mathematical equations.

"And before we have _that _argument again, I read that chapter in that book you gave me."

Once again he emerged, to give her a stern look. His hair tussled from repeating dipping into and out of the engine in the course of their discussion.

"'Darlin' is a _title_." He said seriously. "Granted in acknowledgement of your continued success in provoking affection, which is considered admirable and worthy of encouragement…among _Humans_. So it's perfectly appropriate."

T'Pol considered that. Then nodded.

"Very well. I acknowledge the logic and will accept the title."

Trip smirked and nodded right back. "Good."

Then ducked back into the engine.

"You know, one day I'm going to get a handle of that logic thing, then you're gonna be in _real _trouble."

"Highly doubtful." She said.

And she observed curiously as her hand reached out, almost of its own accord, to take the micro-sealer from the tool box.

"Hey, can you hand me the…oh, hey, thanks. Damned tacks on this thing are giving me fits."

Interesting.

"So what did you want to talk about?" He asked, from deep within the engine.

Something lingered at the back of T'Pol's mind. Something trying to nudge at her attentions, convinced that it had something important to offer. Something relevant that she would want to be aware of.

"T'Pol?"

Ah, there it was. Now to investigate it and determine what about it had attempted to provoke her awareness.

"Concerning the _kov-masu_, Trip. Was there something you wished to say?"

"Oh, right!" He said, grinning. "I almost forgot about that."

He turned and tossed the micro-sealer on the work table behind him. Then leaned one-handed on the manifold to tell his tale.

"Okay…uh…when I was talking to the Vulcan traders in Hedeya I noticed this one girl who was just…chewing on this…_thing_. I didn't know what it was. So I finally had to ask about it. It turns out there's a root that grows on Betazed that has the same effect as _kov-masu_. _Better_, it turns out, if you chew the root instead of brewing tea from it or something."

"But it's a little bit _sweet_. So the girl mentioned that she'd prefer it if it _wasn't _sweet. That got me wondering why. And _that _got me thinking about the logic of food. Because I read that chapter, too."

"Oh, and that also got me thinking about this candy shop they had across the street from the shipyard. They have tailor-made candies for all kinds of species. Ship them all over space. I asked around about them and they have real reputation for being amazing at it. They even made Andorian snacks. Now, imagine _that_."

"So I bought about twenty kilos of this dried root and went by there when I picked up the expansion grids. For the engine upgrades. I talked to the guy and explained what I wanted…it took us about a half hour to get it right…but we finally figured it out. Take a look at _this_."

He turned and rummaged around for a moment on the work table…

"Okay, wait…got it here somewhere…"

…and produced a rather large box, adorned in white paper. Which he flipped open to reveal, by her quick calculations, one hundred and forty-four individually wrapped squares. Twelve rows, by twelve columns. With approximately six levels of the same contained within the dimensions of the box.

"There we go." He said, proudly. "Each one's as good as about a fourth of a cup of _kov-masu_. Bittersweet, so they aren't offensive to taste _and _they aren't so good you're even _tempted_ to indulge. Plus they've each got about a third of your daily B12 and copper requirements. And some other stuff. I've got the paper about that somewhere around here. Have to dig that up. But _it's not candy_. It's a dietary supplement. And a stimulant. Like _kov-masu_. So, whatcha think?"

T'Pol blinked.

Slowly. In case this thing was going to disappear and she would find something that actually made sense in it's place.

"Trip…why did you do this?"

"Well, it's our six month anniversary." He chuckled.

"That is irrelevant. Our bond is the purpose of mating. Mating is no cause for…"

_Whatever _this was he'd done. She didn't know what to call it.

"Okay, look." He said, carefully closing the box to put it aside. "I was just joking. I don't know why I figured _you'd_ think that was funny. It'sjust been rolling around in my head since before you got here, for some reason."

He shrugged.

"I just…well, I don't know. I was standing there, when I figured out about the root, I mean…and the pieces just all came together. You wanted _kov-masu_, they had this root, the candy shop…I dunno. Just…Well, don't kick me or anything but it just seemed like the logical thing to do."

She stared at him, contemplating this. And a couple of other things that had come to her attention since she entered the room.

Which was long enough to make him uncomfortable.

"Look, I'm sorry." He huffed. "I guess it's a Human thing. I thought you'd appreciate…"

"No. Excuse me." She said. "I acknowledge it a very useful gift, which represents significant appreciation, awareness and concern for your mate."

"Oh." He said. "Okay."

Then, as an afterthought…

"That _is _good, right?"

"Indeed." She said.

He smiled. Just a little. "Good, then. I'll lock 'em up in your little stash in the kitchen. So no one else gets into them."

"That would be agreeable." She said, reaching for the synchrometer.

"Right. So I better get this done so I can shower before our…oh, hey. Yeah, that's just what I needed. Thanks."

She watched as he dove in once again, continuing his work. With the synchrometer she had provided.

The one she had anticipated his need for. Without knowing in the slightest what a synchrometer was.

"Trip, where are the discs containing the correspondences of our alternates?"

Inside the engine, Trip laughed. "Kinda hard to figure out what to call them still, isn't it? They're around here somewhere. I think they're on the reactant monitor over there."

T'Pol looked. They weren't there.

"I notice that you seemed to have lost interest in them." She said.

"Yeah, can't get into 'em anymore." He said, distractedly. Focused on his work in the engine.

So T'Pol watched him work for while. Considering things. Coming to conclusions. And then…

"I will meet you in your quarters in two hours, Trip."

"You got it." He said.

Before she turned to go, something occurred to him. So she waited to see what it was.

"Oh, T'Pol!" He said, loudly. Expecting she had already departed, until he yanked himself out of the engine and saw she was still standing there. Waiting.

"Oh. So what did you want to talk about? We kinda kept changing the subject."

"Nothing important."

"You sure? _Seemed _pretty important."

"It is no longer relevant."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Bird-of-Prey NaS'jach<br>_Sirius System**

Lieutenant Verg noticed the passive sensor detection and was surprised. He hadn't expected to be accosted by Humans again until they crossed the outer boundaries of the system.

G'Resh beat him to it, though.

"Humans again." She said, snarling. "They aren't even hailing us."

"Several hundred thousand off our port." Verg pitched in. "Moving laterally, at approximately six impulse…

Except…now…

"Now they are closing, on an intercept course." He said. "Did they only just notice us? Or did they now decide we required another inspection?"

Captain Hargash frowned, tilting his head to crack his neck.

"I grow tired of these ceaseless provocations." He growled. "We are on a research mission. _Hail them_!"

G'Resh growled as well. "They do not respond."

"Captain…" Lieutenant Verg said. "I think their ship has been damaged. They are venting plasma slightly. And, yes, several compartments are open to space."

Captain Hargash's eyebrows rose in surprise. And humor.

"Of course." He laughed. "They've probably been starting fights in every system they passed through. Perhaps they will start one with us! Hail them again, G'Resh."

"Hm…they still do not respond, captain."

Hargash growled and bared his teeth with frustration. Then stood abruptly. "Put them on the screen, Verg."

The ship appeared instantly. Indeed, trailing plasma vapor somewhat. Heavily damaged as well. She must have seen several conflicts recently.

Hargash looked around the bridge, questioning. "Have the Humans gone to war without inviting us? That ship has been busy. Are you not able to identify them, Verg? It is clearly a Starfleet vessel."

"I…wait, yes, captain." He said. "But our intelligence lists them as 'missing in action'. It is the _Gladius_. They appear to be attempting to come alongside."

"Hrm." Hargash rumbled. "That is Pike's ship. I think we are missing out on an interesting story here. Once again, G'Rash. Hail them."

"No resp…ah, they respond now, captain. But…there is something…"

G'Rash furrowed her brow, listening intently. Then looked up in surprise, her face evidencing confusion.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Hargash demanded.

"Captain…" Verg reported. "They continue to close in. I may have to take evasive maneuvers…"

Hargash snapped his fingers impatiently at G'Rash, growling.

"Put them _through_, G'Rash!" _What was Pike up to here?_

_"Captain!"_ Verg exclaimed. But too late.

Just before the ship impacted, G'Rash keyed the channel open on her console…

…and the bridge was filled with screams.

* * *

><p><em>That's all, folks. <em>

_Sweet dreams. ;)_

_- Mary_


End file.
